nf,T> 


A  YEAR  OF  SUNSHINE. 


|6y  lr)C  QDarr)c  c/iulr)6r. 


PURPLE  AND   GOLD. 

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JAMES  R.  OSGOOD  &  CO.,  Publishers,  Boston. 


YEAR  OF  SUNSHINE 

(-.riccr^I   Exfracfs 
FOR   EVERY  DAY  IN  THE    YEAR 

Oclccfcd    arid    cTlrpanqcd 

Bv     KATE     SANBORN 


Jaoslor) 
JAMES    R.   OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY 


JS.Sj 


Copyright,  1S82  and  i88j 
By   KATE   SANBORN. 


JTraiiftlin  ]j]rt90: 

RAND,    AVERV,   AND   COMl'A»rY, 
BOSTON. 


PREFACE 


The  sun  does  not  always  shine ;  and  once  in  a  while 
there  is  no  "  bright  side,"  unless  we  imitate  the  old  woman, 
who,  having  heard  that  her  husband's  neck  was  broken, 
thanked  God  that  it  was  no  worse.  At  such  times  we 
must  make  our  own  sunshine,  or  take  it  ready  made. 
This  calendar,  with  nearly  five  hundred  selections  on  mak- 
ing the  best  of  things,  has  found  its  way  to  many  hearts 
as  a  help,  a  spur,  an  inspiration.  One  is  ashamed  to  be 
blue,  and  sees  the  utter  uselessness  of  gloomy  retrospect 
or  forebodings,  with  such  cheery  sentences  staring  him  in 
the  face. 

So  many  requests  have  been  received  to  have  it  put  in 
a  more  permanent  form,  that  a  revised  edition  is  offered, 
with  space  for  amateur  decoration,  or  memoranda,  birth- 
days, or  what  you  please,  with  poems  for  special  days  at 
the  close.  Modern  autliors  indulge  altogether  too  much 
in  the  morbid  and  unintelligible.  Healthful  men  and 
women,  with  a  keen  enjoyment  of  life,  sigh  (in  print)  for 
the  death-angel,  and  crave  a  quiet  grave.  But  pessimism 
is  contemptible  and  cowardly  in  print  or  in  life.  Let  us 
make  each  year  for  ourselves  and  all  around  us,  "  A  Year 

of  Sunshine." 

KATE    SANI50RN. 


January  1. 

Another  year  is  dawning  ! 
Dear  Master,  let  it  be, 
In  working  or  in  waiting, 
Another  year  with  thee. 

Another  year  of  progress, 
Another  year  of  praise ; 
Another  year  of  proving 
Thy  presence  "all  the  days." 

Another  year  is  dawning ! 
Dear  Master,  let  it  be. 
On  earth,  or  else  in  heaven, 
Another  year  for  thee. 

Frances  R.  Haver^al. 


January  2. 


In  ancient  mythology,  Janus  was  the  god  of  gates  and 
avenues,  and  held  a  key  in  his  right  hand,  a  rod  in  his 
left,  to  symbolize  his  opening  and  ruHng  the  year. 


SELF-ESTEEM. 


Some  Frenchmen,  who  had  landed  on  the  coast  of 
Guinea,  found  a  negro  prince  seated  under  a  tree,  on  a 
block  of  wood  for  his  throne,  and  three  or  four  negroes, 
armed  with  wooden  pikes,  for  his  guards.  His  sable 
majesty  anxiously  inquired,  "  Do  they  talk  much  of  me 
in  France  ?  " 


If  you  want  your  business  done,  go  /  if  not,  send  ! 


January  3. 

God  send  our  maister  a  happy  New- Year  ! 
A  happy  New-Year  as  e'er  he  did  see  ! 

Old  Eni:lish  Ballad 


Yes,  yes,  it's  very  true  and  very  dear, 
By  way  of  compliment  and  common  chat, 
It's  very  well  to  wish  me  a  New- Year; 
But  wish  me  a  new  hat  ! 

Although  not  spent  in  luxury  and  ease, 
In  course  a  longer  life  I  won't  refuse  ; 
But,  while  you're  wishing,  wish  me,  please, 
A  newer  pair  of  shoes  ! 

Thomas  Hood. 


Defeat  may  be  victory  in  disguise  : 
The  lowest  ebb  is  the  turn  of  the  tide. 

Longfellow. 


January  4. 


The  Spaniard  of  whom  Southey  tells  that  he  ahvays 
put  on  his  magnifying-glasses  when  he  ate  cherries,  in 
order  to  make  them  seem  larger,  had  the  true  philosophy 
of  life.  It  is  surprising  how  narrow  means  and  simple 
pleasures  may  be  eked  out  by  a  little  invention. 

Sydney  Smith,  that  great  master  of  human  happiness, 
used  to  cry  out,  "  Glorify  the  room  ! "  and  the  windows, 
being  thrown  open,  let  in  a  blaze  of  sunshine  and  flowers. 
It  is  well  to  glorify  our  lives  in  this  way  a  little,  by  throw- 
ing open  the  windows,  and  taking  an  enlarged  view  ot 
all  our  blessings. 


Oh,  what  were  life,  if  life  were  all? 

Thine  eyes  are  blinded  by  their  tears,  or  thou  wouldst  see. 

Thy  treasures  wait  thee  in  the  far-off  skies ; 

And  Death,  thy  friend,  will  give  them  all  to  thee. 

Adelaide  A.  Procter, 


January  5. 


In  a  small  place  a  woman  can't  buy  a  calico  apron 
without  the  neighbors  holdin'  a  inquest  over  it.  Some 
think  she  ort  to  have  it,  some  think  it  is  extravagant  in 
her,  and  some  think  the  set  flowers  on  it  is  too  young 
for  her;  and  then  they  will  all  quarrel  agin  whether  she 
ort  to  make  it  with  a  bib,  or  not. 

The  very  reason  why  men's  talk,  as  a  general  thing,  is 
nobler  than  wimmen's,  is  because  they  have  nobler  things 
to  talk  about. 

Saniantha  Allen. 


Haply  no  more,  music  and  mirth  and  love, 

And  glorious  things  of  old  and  younger  art,  _ 

Shall  of  thy  days  make  one  perpetual  feast. 

But,  when  these  bright  companions  all  depart, 

Lay  then  thy  heart  upon  the  ample  breast 

Of  Hope,  —  and  thou  shalt  hear  the  angels  sing  above. 

Frances  Anne  Kcinble. 


January  6. 


O  New- Year,  teach  us  faith  ! 

The  road  of  life  is  hard  : 
When  our  feet  bleed,  and  scourging  winds  us  scath, 

Point  thou  to  Him  whose  visage  was  more  marred 
Than  any  man's,  who  saith, 

"Make  straight  paths  for  your  feet,"  and,  to  the  opprest, 
"Come  to  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

Yet  hang  some  lamp-like  hope 

Above  this  unknown  way, 
Kind  year,  to  give  our  spirits  freer  scope, 

And  our  hands  strength  to  work  while  it  is  day. 
But  if  that  way  must  slope 
Tombward,  oh  bring  before  our  fading  eyes 
The  lamp  of  life,  the  hope  that  never  dies  ! 

Mrs.  Craik. 


Walk  as  children  of  light,  for  the  fruit  of  the  light  is  in 
all  goodness  and  righteousness  and  truth. 


January  7. 

We  are  bound,  by  every  rule  of  justice  and  equity,  to 
give  the  New- Year  credit  for  being  a  good  one  until  he 
proves  himself  unworthy  the  confidence  we  repose  in  him. 

Dickens 


Life  is  made  up,  not  of  great  sacrifices  or  duties,  but 
of  little  things,  in  which  smiles  and  kindnesses  and  small 
obligations,  given  habitually,  are  what  win  and  preserve 
the  heart,  and  secure  comfort. 

Sir  H.  Davy. 


The  grand  essentials  of  happiness  are,  something  to  do, 
something  to  love,  and  something  to  hope  for. 

Chalmers. 


Good  deeds  ring  clear  through  heaven  like  a  bell. 

Richter. 


January  8. 


There  are  no  inclinations  in  women  which  more  sur- 
prise me  than  their  passions  for  chalk  and  china.  The 
first  of  these  maladies  wears  out  in  a  little  time ;  but, 
when  a  woman  is  visited  with  the  second,  it  generally 
takes  possession  of  her  for  life.  China  vessels  are  play- 
things for  women  of  all  ages.  An  old  lady  of  fourscore 
shall   be   as   busy  in    cleaning  an  Indian  mandarin  as  hex 

great-granddaughter  is  in  dressing  her  baby. 

Addison. 


Fade,  with  thy  freight  of  memories  fond, 
O  Year  !  to  seek  the  land  beyond. 

Rise  from  thy  newer  realm  of  bliss, 
O  Year  !  and  bring  fresh  hopes  to  this. 

While  we  send  up  from  thankful  breasts 
God-speed  and  love  to  both  our  guests. 

Mary  E.  Blake. 


January  9. 


Take  well  whate'er  shall  chance,  though  bad  it  be  : 
Take  it  for  good,  and  'twill  be  good  to  thee. 

Thomas  Randolph. 


Inquisitive  people  are  the  funnels  of  conversation  :  tliey 
do  not  take  in  any  thing  for  their  own  use,  but  merely 
to  pass  it  to  another. 

Sir  R.  Steele. 


Never  hold  any  one  by  the  button  or  the  hand  in  order 
to  be  heard  out ;  for,  if  people  are  unwilling  to  hear  you, 
you  had  better  hold  your  tongue  than  them. 

Lord  Chesterfield. 


January  lO. 


They're  always  abusing  the  women 

As  a  terrible  plague  to  men ; 
They  say  we're  the  root  of  all  evil, 

And  repeat  it  again  and  again ; 
Of  war  and  quarrels  and  bloodshed,  — 

All  mischief,  be  what  it  may ; 
And  pray,  then,  why  do  you  marry  us 

If  we're  all  the  plagues  you  say? 
When  you  ought  to  be  thanking  heaven 

That  your  Plague  is  out  of  the  way. 
You  all  keep  fussing  and  fretting, 

Where  is  my  Plague  to-day  ? 


A  ristophanes. 


So  called  because  he  had  a  deal  of  airy-stufl"  in  his  writings. 

Dean  Swift. 


January  11. 


Friday,  long  regarded  as  a  day  of  ill  omen,  has  been  an 
(venfful  one  in  American  history. 

Friday,  Columbus  sailed  on  his  voyage  of  discovery. 

Friday,  ten  weeks  after,  he  discovered  America. 

Friday,  Henry  III.  of  England  gave  John  Cabot  his  com- 
mission, which  led  to  the  discovery  of  North  America. 

Friday,  St.  Augustine,  the  oldest  town  in  the  United  States, 
was  founded. 

Friday,  the  "  Mayflower,"  with  the  Pilgrims,  arrived  at 
Plymouth ;  and  on  Friday  they  signed  that  august  com- 
pact, the  forerunner  of  the  present  Constitution. 

Friday,  George  Washington  was  born. 

Friday,  Bunker  Hill  was  seized  and  fortified. 

Friday,  the  surrender  of  Saratoga  was  made. 

Friday,  Cornwallis  surrendered  at  Yorktown  ;  and  on  Friday 
the  motion  was  made  in  Congress  that  the  United  Colonies 
were,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent. 

Americans  surely  ought  not  to  be  afraid  of  Fridav. 


January  12. 


An  ounce  of  good  cheer  is  worth  a  ton  of  melancholy. 

Samuel  Smiles. 


OppORTUNin'  has  hair  in  front :  behind  she  is  bald.  If 
you  seize  her  by  the  forelock,  you  may  hold  her ;  but,  if 
suffered  to  escape,  not  Jupiter  himself  can  catch  her  again. 

Prom  the  Latin. 


A  YOUNG  man  declared  to  Dr.  Parr  that  he  would  believe 
nothing  he  did  not  understand.  "Then,  sir,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  your  creed  would  be  the  shortest  of  any  man 
whom  I  ever  knew." 


January  13. 

I  KNOW  not  if  the  year  shall  send 

Tidings  to  us-ward  as  a  friend, 

And  salutation,  and  such  things, 

Bear  on  his  wings. 

As  the  soul  turns  and  thirsts  unto 

With  hungering  eyes,  and  lips  that  sue 

For  that  sweet  food  which  makes  all  new. 

I  know  not  if  his  light  shall  be 

Darkness,  or  else  light  verily  : 

I  know  but  that  it  will  not  part 

Heart's  faith  from  heart. 

Truth  from  the  trust  in  truth,  nor  hope 

From  sight  of  days  unsealed  that  ope 

Beyond  one  poor  year's  horoscope. 

A.  C.  Snvinburnc. 


January  14. 


In  January  a  man  spends  a  few  minutes  in  the  sunshine, 
but  all  the  rest  of  the  day  in  the  chimney-corner. 

Portugal. 


A  COMMONPLACE  life,  we  say,  and  we  sigh ; 

But  why  should  we  sigh  as  we  say? 
The  commonplace  sun  in  the  commonplace  sky 

Makes  up  the  commonplace  day. 
The  moon  and  the  stars  are  commonplace  things, 

The  flower  that  blooms,  and  the  bird  that  sings  j 
But  sad  were  the  world,  and  dark  our  lot. 

If  flowers  failed  and  the  sun  shone  not. 
And  God,  who  sees  each  separate  soul. 

Out  of  commonplace  lives  makes  his  beautiful  whole. 

Susan  Coolidsre. 


He  who  rises  late  must  trot  all  day,  and  will  scarcely 

overtake  hib  business  at  night. 

Fuller. 


January  15. 


HOW  TO  CORRECTLY  ASCERTAIN  THE  AGE  OF  A  LADY. 

I  FIRST  ask  the  lady  accused  her  own  age.  I  then  in- 
quire of  her  "  dearest  friends."  I  next  ascertain  tlie  dif- 
ference between  the  two  accounts  (which  frequently  varies 
from  five  to  forty  years)  :  and,  dividing  that  difference  by 
2,  I  add  that  quotient  to  the  lady's  own  representation ; 
and  the  result  is  the  lady's  age  as  near  as  a  lady's  age 
can  be  ascertained. 

Example.  —  Mrs.  Wellington  Seymour  gives  herself  out  to  be  28.  Her 
friends,  Mrs.  McCabe,  Mrs.  Alfred  Stevens,  Madame  Cornichon,  and  M'iss 
Jerkins,  indignantly  declare  that  they  will  eat  their  respective  Iieads  off  if  she 
is  a  day  younger  than  46.     Now,  the  disputed  account  stands  thus:  — 

YEARS. 

Mrs.  Seymour's  age,  as  represented  by  her  friends 46 

Mrs.  Seymour's  age,  as  represenled  by  herself 28 

Difference  between  the  two  accounts 18 

That  difference  has  to  be  divided  by  2,  which,  I  believe,  will  give  9.  If  that 
is  added  to  Mrs.  Seymour's  own  statement,  the  result  obtained  will  be  the 
answer  required.  Accordingly  Mrs.  Wellington  Seymour's  age  is  ^"j,  — a  fact, 
which,  upon  consulting  the  family  Bible,  I  find  to  be  perfectly  correct,  —  and  I 
hope  Mrs.  Seymour  will  someday  forgive  ir.e  for  publishing  it. 

Punch, 


January  16. 


A  Quarrelsome  Man.  —  Dr.  Johnson  once  said,  in 
speaking  of  a  quarrelsome  fellow,  "  If  he  had  two  ideas 
in  his  head,  they  would  fall  out  with  one  another." 


Many  unhappy  persons  seem  to  imagine  that  they  are 
always  in  an  amphitheatre,  with  the  assembled  world  as 
spectators ;  whereas,  all  the  while,  they  are  playing  to 
empty  benches. 


A  BENEFICENT  pcrson  Is  like  a  fountain  watering  the  earth 
and  spreading  fertility  :  it  is  therefore  more  delightful  and 
more  honorable  to  give  than  receive. 

Epicurus. 


January  17. 


Soon  as  the  silent  shades  of  night  withdrew, 
The  ruddy  morn  disclosed  at  once  to  view 
The  face  of  nature  in  a  rich  disguise, 
And  brightened  every  object  to  my  eyes ; 
For  every  shrub,  and  every  blade  of  grass, 
And  every  pointed  thorn,  seemed  wrought  in  glass 
The  spreading  oak,  the  beech,  and  towering  pine. 
Glazed  over,  in  the  freezing  ether  shine. 

Philips. 


What  can  be  more  delicately  beautiful  than  the  specta- 
cle which  sometimes  salutes  the  eye  at  the  breakfast- 
room  window,  occasioned  by  the  hoar-frost  dew?  If  a 
jeweller  had  come  to  dress  every  plant  over  night  to 
surprise  an  Eastern  sultan,  he  could  not  produce  any 
thing  like  the  "pearly  drops"  or  the  silvery  plumage. 

Lei<'h  Hntit. 


January  18. 


Blessed  are  they  who  see,  and  yet  wlio  believe  not 

Yea,  blest  are  they  who  look  on  graves,  and  still 

Believe  none  dead ;  who  see  proud  tyrants  ruling, 

And  yet  believe  not  in  the  strength  of  evil ; 

Blessed  are  they  who  see  the  wandering  poor, 

And  yet  believe  not  that  their  God  forsakes  them ; 

Who  see  the  blind  worm  creeping,  yet  believe  not 

That  even  that  is  left  without  a  path. 

Leopold  Schcfir. 

If  fortune,  with  a  smiling  face, 

Strews  roses  on  your  way, 
When  shall  we  stoop  to  pick  them  up? 

To-day,  my  friend,  to-day  ! 

But  should  she  frown  with  lace  of  care, 

And  talk  of  coming  sorrow, 
When  shall  we  grieve,  if  grieve  we  must? 

To-morrow,  friend,  to-morrow  ! 


January  19. 


AUNT     POLLY'S     ADVICE. 

If  things  go  wrong  in  the  household, 

As  they  often  will,  you  know, 
Or  you're  worried  out  with  cares  that  vex, 

And  the  children  try  you  so, 
Don't  sit  in  the  vale  of  shadows, 

Or  stoop  to  be  a  scold  : 
'Twill  only  make  bad  worse,  you  see, 

While  you  grow  gray  and  old. 

Helen  Rich. 


A  CUCUMBER  is  bitter :  throw  it  away.  There  are  briers 
in  the  road  :  turn  aside  from  them.  This  is  enough.  Do 
not  add,  And  why  were  such  things  made  in  the  world? 

A/urcus  Antoninus. 


Three  degrees  of  raining   speculation  :    Positive,  mine  \ 
comparative,  miner ;  superlative,  minus. 


January  20. 


Sometimes,  says  John  Newton,  I  compare  the  troubles 
we  have  to  undergo  in  the  course  of  a  year  to  a  great 
bundle  of  fagots,  far  too  large  for  us  to  lift.  But  God 
does  not  require  us  to  carry  the  whole  at  once.  He  mer- 
cifully unties  the  bundle,  and  gives  us  first  one  stick, 
which  we  are  to  carry  to-day,  and  then  another,  which  we 
are  to  carry  to-morrow,  and  so  on.  This  we  might  easily 
manage  if  we  would  only  take  the  burden  appointed  for 
us  each  day ;  but  we  choose  to  increase  our  trouble  by 
carrying  yesterday's  stick  over  again  to-day,  and  adding 
to-morrow's  burden  to  our  load  before  we  are  required  to 
bear  it. 


Who  never  ate  his  bread  in  sorrow. 
Who  never  spent  the  darksome  hours 

Weeping  and  watcliing  for  the  morrow. 
He  knows  you  not,  ye  unseen  Powers. 

Godhe. 


January  21. 


I  FIND  the  gayest  castles  in  the  air  that  were  ever 
piled,  far  better  for  comfort  and  for  use  than  the  dun- 
geons in  the  air,  that  are  daily  dug  and  caverned  out  by 
grumbling,  discontented  people. 

A  man  should  make  life  and  nature  happier  to  us,  or 
he  had  better  never  been  born.  An  old  French  verse 
runs  in  my  translation  :  — 

"  Some  of  your  griefs  you  have  cured, 

And  the  sharpest  you  still  have  survived ; 

But  what  torments  of  pain  you  endured 

From  evils  that  never  arrived  ! " 

Enter  son. 


The   gravest   beast    is   an   ass,    the   gravest    bird    is   an 
owl,  the  gravest  fish  is  an  oyster,    and   the   gravest   man 

is  a  fool  I 

Joe  Miller. 


January  22. 


SERVE    GOD     AND    BE     CHEERFUL. 


"  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful,"  self-balanced, 


Whether  Fortune  smile  sweetly  or  frown, 
hrist  stood  king  before  Pilate  :  within  me 
I  carry  the  sceptre  and  crown. 


"  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     Make  brighter 
The  brightness  that  falls  to  your  lot : 
The  rare  or  the  daily-sent  blessing 

Profane  not  with  gloom  and  with  doubt. 

"  Serve  God  and  be  cheerful."     Live  nobly, 
Do  right,  and  do  good.     Make  the  best 
Of  the  gifts  and  the  work  put  before  you, 
And  to  God,  without  fear,  leave  the  rest. 

William  Newell,  D.D. 


January  23. 


I  CANNOT  but  take  notice  of  the  wonderful  love  of  God 
to  mankind,  who,  in  order  to  encourage  obedience  to  his 
laws,  has  annexed  a  present  as  well  as  a  future  reward  to 
a  good  life,  and  has  so  interwoven  our  duty  and  liapjMness 
together,  that,  while  we  are  discharging  our  obligations  to 
tlie  one,  we  are  at  the  same  time  making  the  best  pro- 
vision for  the  other. 


Mel  moth. 


Whatever  you  dislike   in  another  person,  take  care  to 
correct  in  yourself. 

Sp7-at. 


A  POUND  of  pluck  is  worth  a  ton  of  luck, 

Garfield. 


Care's  no  cure. 


January  24. 


It's  no  in  titles  nor  in  rank, 

It's  no  in  wealth  like  Lon'on  bank, 

To  purchase  peace  and  rest; 
It's  no  in  makin'  muckle  niair, 
It's  no  in  books,  it's  no  in  lear, 

To  make  us  truly  blest : 
If  Happiness  hae  not  her  seat 

And  centre  in  the  breast, 
We  may  be  wise  or  rich  or  great, 

But  never  can  be  blest. 

Robert  Burtts, 


The  Rev.  Mr.  Swing  says  "that  a  novel  is  the  world's 
truth  with  a  beautiful  woman  walking  through  it."  Gen- 
erally, we  may  add,  with  a  man  after  her. 


January  25. 


"You  see,  we  don't  propose  to  warm  our  house  with  a 
wood-fire,  but  only  to  adorn  it.  It  is  an  altar-fire  that  we 
will  kindle  every  evening,  just  to  light  up  our  room,  and 
show  it  to  advantage.  How  charming  every  thing  looks  at 
your  mother's  in  that  time  between  daylight  and  dark,  when 
you  all  sit  round  the  hearth,  and  the  fire  lights  up  the  pic- 
tures and  the  books,  and  makes  every  thing  look  so  dreamy 
and  beautiful  !  " 

"You  are  a  litde  poet,  my  dear.  It  will  be  your  specialty 
to  turn  life  into  poetry." 

And  that  is  what  I  call  woman's  genius.  To  make  life 
beautiful ;  to  keep  down  and  out  of  sight  the  hard,  dry, 
prosaic  side,  and  keep  up  the  poetry,  —  that  is  my  idea  of 
our  "mission."  I  think  woman  ought  to  be  what  Hawthorne 
calls  "  The  Artist  of  the  Beautiful." 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe,  in  ''My  Wife  and  /." 


January  26. 


I  SEE  in  this  world  two  heaps  of  human  happiness  and 
misery.  Now,  if  I  can  take  but  the  smallest  bit  from  one 
heap,  and  add  it  to  the  other,  I  carry  a  point.  If,  as  I  go 
home,  a  child  has  dropped  a  halfpenny,  and  if,  by  giving  it 
another,  I  can  wipe  away  its  tears,  I  feel  that  I  have  done 
something.  I  should  be  glad,  indeed,  to  do  greater  things ; 
but  I  will  not  neglect  this. 


John  Newton. 


Never  go  gloomily,  man  with  a  mind; 

Hope  is  a  better  companion  than  fear ; 

Providence,  ever  benignant  and  kind. 

Gives  with  a  smile  what  you  take  with  a  tear. 

All  will  be  right : 

Look  to  the  light, — 

Morning  is  ever  the  daugliter  of  night : 

All  that  is  black  will  be  all  that  is  bright. 

Cheerily,  cheerily,  then  !  cheer  up  ! 


Tti/'fer. 


January  27. 


When  Grief  sliall  come  to  thee, 

Think  not  to  flee  ; 

For  Grief,  with  steady  pace, 

Will  win  the  race  : 

Nor  crowd  her  forth  with  Mirth ; 

For  at  thy  hearth, 

When  Mirth  is  tired  and  gone, 

Will  Grief  sit  on  : 

But  make  of  her  thy  friend. 

And  in  the  end 

Her  coimsels  will  grow  sweet ; 

And  with  swift  feet 

Three  lovelier  than  she 

Will  come  to  thee,  — 

Cahii  Patience,  Courage  strong. 

And  Hope,  —  erelong. 

Henrietta  R.  Elliott, 


January  28. 


Sit  not  like  a  mourner,  brother,  by  the  grave  of  that  dear 

Past: 
Throw  the  Present ;  'tis  thy  servant  only  when  'tis  overcast. 
Give  battle  to  the  leagued  world  :  if  thou'rt  worthy,  truly 

brave, 
Thou  shalt  make  the  hardest  circumstance  a  helper  or  a 

slave. 


Alexander  Smith. 


If  our  faith  were  but  more  simple, 
We  would  take  Him  at  his  word, 

And  our  lives  would  be  all  sunshine 
In  the  presence  of  our  Lord. 

Fabcr. 


Make  the  best  of  things. 

Koran. 


January  29. 


This  wretched  and  joyless  expression  on  the  American 
face  is  so  common  that  we  "are  hardened  to  seeing  it,  and 
look  for  nothing  better.  Only  when,  by  chance,  some 
blessed,  rollicking,  sunshiny  boy  or  girl  or  man  or  woman 
flashes  the  beam  of  their  laughing  countenance  into  the 
level  gloom  do  we  even  know  that  we  are  in  the  dark. 

He^cn  Hunt. 


Never  give  way  to  melancholy.  Nothing  encroaches  more. 
I  fight  against  it  vigorously.  One  great  remedy  is,  to  take 
short  views  of  life.  Are  you  happy  now  ?  xAre  you  likely 
to  remain  so  till  this  evening,  or  next  month,  or  next  year? 
Then,  why  destroy  present  happiness  by  a  distant  misery 
which  may  never  come  at  all,  or  you  may  never  live  to  see  ? 
For  every  substantial  grief  has  twenty  shadows,  and  most  of 
them  shadows  of  your  own  making. 

Sydney  Stitith, 


January  30. 


Jack  P^rost  in  Janivecr 

Nips  tlie  nose  of  the  nascent  year. 

Brescia. 


Children  are  travellers  newly  arrived  in  a  strange  coun- 
try :  we  should  therefore  make  conscience  not  to  mislead 

them. 

Locke, 


There  are  three  companions  with  whom  you  should  al- 
ways keep  on  good  terms  :  — ■ 
First,  your  \Vife. 
Second,  your  Stomach. 
Thifd,  your  Conscience. 


There  is  no  cream  like  that  which  rises  on  spilled  milk. 

Bcecher. 


January  31. 


Forget  not  all  the  sunshine  of  the  way 
By  which  the  Lord  hath  led  thee,  —  answered  prayers, 
And  joys  unasked,  strange  blessings,  lifted  cares, 
(kand  promise-echoes  !   Thus  each  page  shall  be 
A  record  of  God's  love  and  faithfulness  to  thee. 

Frances  Ridley  Haver  gal. 


I  RESOLVED,  that  like  the  sun,  so  long  as  my  day  lasted,  I 
would  look  on  the  bright  side  of  every  thing. 

Despondency  in  a  nice  case  is  the  overweight  that  may 

make  you  kick  the  beam  and  the  bucket  both  at  once.     In 

short,  never  meet  trouble  half  way,  but  let  him  have  the 

whole  walk  for  his  pains.     I  have  even  known  him  to  give 

up  his  visit  in  sight  of  the  house.     Besides,  the  best  fence 

against  care  is  a  ha,  ha  !     Wherefore  take  care  to  have  one 

all  round  you  wherever  you  can. 

Tom  Hood. 


February  1. 


The  February  sunshine  steeps  your  boughs, 
And  tints  the  buds  and  swells  the  leaves  within. 

Bryant. 


When  the  winds  of  winter 

Through  the  forests  blow, 
And  the  moonbeams  glitter 

Coldly  on  the  snow, 
Sweet  it  is  to  fancy, 

Though  the  earth  is  chill, 
How  her  heart  is  keeping 

Thoughts  of  summer  still. 

Emily  Hiintiiigtoii  Miller. 


Do  not  force  on  thy  neighbor  a  hat  that  hurts  thine  own 

head. 

Heidcr. 


February  2. 


FEBRUARY  —  IMPATIENCE. 

Earth  captive  held 

By  winter,  a  foe 

Him  deems,  to  weld 

Such  fetters.     Below 

Her  violets  close-celled 

Flutter  to  go. 

Earth,  when  she's  free 

To  bud  and  blow, 

And  feel  through  every  fibre  of  each  tree 

The  strength  to  grow, 

Will  say,  "  'Twas  winter  gave  it  me  !  " 

And  in  the  sunshine  bless  the  snow. 

Alice   Ward. 


One  hand  cannot  expiate  the  wrong  of  the  other. 

Talmud. 


February  3. 


My  Saviour,  what  thou  didst  of  old 

When  thou  wast  dwelling  here, 
Thou  doest  yet  for  them,  who,  bold 

In  faith,  to  thee  draw  near. 
As  thou  hadst  pity  on  the  blind, 

According  to  thy  ^Vord, 
Thou  sufferedst  me  thy  grace  to  find, 

Thy  Light  hast  on  me  poured. 

And  words  of  thine  can  never  fail ; 

My  fears  are  past  and  o'er ; 
My  soul  is  glad  with  light,  —  the  veil 

Is  on  my  heart  no  more. 
Thou  blesseth  me,  and  forth  I  fare, 

Free  from  my  old  disgrace. 
And  fellow  on  with  joy  where'er 

Thy  footsteps.  Lord,  I  trace. 

De  la  Motte  Foitqiic. 


February  4. 


It   is    selfish    to    dwell   on    our  griefs,  as   though  some 

strange   thing   had    happened   to  us,  as  though  they  were 

too   important   to   be  relieved,  or  it  were  a  virtue  to  sink 

under   them.     That   bereavement   seems    rather   sanctified 

which    saddens    the    heart    not   over   much,    and    softens 

without  withering  it. 

//.  Hooker. 


What  dost  thou  mean  by  fortune?  If  mere  chance, 
then  to  envy  the  lot  of  others,  or  to  murmur  at  thy  own, 
is  folly ;  if  providence,  then  it  is  impiety. 

Lucas. 


February  5. 


The  hour  whose  happy 
Unalloyed  moments 
I  would  eternalize, 
Ten  thousand  mourners 
Well  pleased  see  end. 

The  bleak,  stern  hour, 
Whose  severe  moments 
I  would  annihilate, 
Is  passed  by  others 
In  warmth,  light,  joy. 

Time  so  complained  of, 
Who  to  no  one  man 
Shows  partiality. 
Brings  round  to  all  men 
Some  undimmed  hours. 

Matthew  Arnohl. 


February  6. 


So  long  as  we  have  nothing  to  say  to  God.  nothing  to  do 
with  him  save  in  the  sunshine  of  the  mind  when  we  feel  him 
near  us,  we  are  poor  creatures,  willed  upon,  not  willing,  reeds, 
—  flowering  reeds,  it  may  be,  and  pleasant  to  behold,  but 
only  reeds  blown  about  by  the  wind ;  not  bad,  but  poor, 
creatures. 

Geo7's:e  Macdonald. 


Oh,  trifling  tasks  so  often  done, 

Yet  ever  to  be  done  anew  ! 

Oh,  cares  which  come  with  every  sun. 

Morn  after  morn,  the  long  years  through  ! 

We  shrink  beneath  their  paltry  sway, — 

The  irksome  calls  of  every  day. 

Ah  !  more  than  martyr's  aureole, 
And  more  than  hero's  heart  of  fire. 
We  need  the  humble  strength  of  soul 
Wliich  daily  toils  and  ills  require. 
Sweet  Patience  !  grant  us,  if  you  may, 
An  added  grace  for  every  day. 

Elizabeth  A.  Allen. 


February  7. 


Some  Christians  are  too  dejected.  They  get  under  the 
covert  of  a  pecuHar  theology,  or  ensconce  themselves  in 
shadowy  caves  of  wilfulness  or  pertinacity  or  unbelief,  and 
then  complain  that  they  cannot  see  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness. He  lightens  the  world.  Let  them  come  out  beneath 
his  beams,  and  at  once  they  will  feel  the  fire.  Their  shivering 
faith,  which  with  them  is  rather  the  reminiscence  of  heat 
than  a  resorting  to  its  unfailing  source,  will  soon  mount  up 
to  fervor. 

Kcv.  y.  Haviilton. 


Hope  is  the  cordial  of  the  human  heart. 

Burns. 


February  8. 


OBSERVATIONS  OF  REV.  GABE  TUCKER. 

You  may  notch  it  on  de  palin's  as  a  mighty  resky  plan 

To  make  your  judgment  by  de  clothes  that  kivers  up  a  man, 

For  I  hardly  needs  to  tell  you  how  you  often  come  ercross 

A  fifty-dollar  saddle  on  a  twenty-dollar  hoss. 

An',  wukin'  in  de  low  groun's,  you  diskiver  as  you  go, 

Dat  de  fines'  shuck  may  hide  de  meanes'  nubbin'  in  a  row. 

I  think  a  man  has  got  a  mighty  slender  chance  for  heben 
Dat  holds  onto  his  piety  but  one  day  out  ob  seben  ; 
Dat  talks  about  de  sinner  with  a  heap  o'  solemn  chat. 
An'  nebber  drops  a  nickel  in  de  missionary  hat ; 
Dat's  foremost  in  de  meetin '-house  for  raisin'  all  de  chunes, 
But  lays  aside  his  'ligion  wid  his  Sunday  pantaloons. 

I  nebber  judge  o'  people  dat  I  meets  along  de  way 

By  de  places  whar  dey  comes  from  and  de  houses  whar  dey 

stay  ; 
For  de  bantam  chicken's  awful  fond  o'  roostin'  pretty  high, 
An'  de  turkey-buzzard  sails  above  de  eagle  in  de  sky  ; 
Dey  ketches  little  minners  in  de  middle  ob  de  sea, 
An'  you  finds  de  smalles'  possum  up  de  bigges'  kind  o'  tree. 

Scribner. 


February  9. 


It  is  a  great  misfortune  to  have  a  fretful  disposition.  It 
takes  the  fi-agrance  out  of  one's  hfe,  and  leaves  only  weeds 
where  a  cheerful  disposition  would  cause  flowers  to  bloom. 


Always  say  a  kind  word  if  you  can,  if  only  that  it  may 
come  in,  perhaps,  with  singular  opportuneness,  entering 
some  mournful  man's  darkened  room  like  a  beautiful  fire-fly, 
whose  happy  convolutions  he  cannot  but  watch,  forgetting 
his  many  troubles. 

Arthur  Helps. 


February  lO. 


It  is  a  celebrated  thought  of  Socrates,  that  if  all  the 
misfortunes  of  mankind  were  cast  into  a  public  stock,  in 
order  to  be  equally  distributed  among  the  whole  species, 
those  who  now  think  themselves  the  most  unhappy  would 
prefer  the  share  they  are  already  possessed  of,  before  that 
which  would  fall  to  them  by  such  a  division. 

Addison. 


So  what   signifies  wishing   and  hoping  for  better  times? 
We  may  make  these  times  better,  if  we  bestir  ourselves. 

Bt'H  Franklin. 


It  is  said  every  other  demon  attacks  in  the  front,  but 
Slander,  which  assaults  from  behind. 

Parsi. 


February  11. 


Rise  !  if  the  Past  detains  you, 

Her  sunshine  and  storms  forget : 

No  chains  so  unworthy  to  hold  you 

As  those  of  a  vain  regret. 

Sad  or  bright,  she  is  hfeless  ever ; 

Cast  her  phantom  arms  away, 

Nor  look  back,  save  to  learn  the  lesson 

Of  a  nobler  strife  —  to-day. 

Adelaide  A.  Procter. 


Look  here,  dear  friend,  get  you  away  and  do  something ; 
for  pity's  sake,  do  something  !  Do  some  good  somewhere. 
Cart-wheels  grumble  and  creak  sometimes  for  want  of 
grease,  but  very  often  it  is  for  want  of  work.  I  never  knew 
a  grumbler  yet  that  ever  had  a  moment  to  do  any  good  with. 

H/ark  G.  Pearse. 


February  12. 


Ten  measures  of  garrulity,  says  the  Talmud,  were  sent 
down  upon  the  earth  ;  and  the  women  took  nine.  I  have 
known  in  my  life  eight  terrific  talkers,  and  five  of  them 
were  of  the  masculine  gender.  But,  supposing  that  the 
rabbis  were  right  in  allotting  to  the  women  a  ninefold 
proportion  of  talkativeness,  I  confess  that  I  have  inherited 
my  mother's  share. 


Soiithey. 


Lutle    minds    are    tamed    and    subdued    by  misfortune, 
but  great  minds   rise   above   it. 


IVashhicton  Irviiis: 


All  who  joy  would  win 
^^ust  share  it.     Happiness  was  born  a  twin. 

Byron. 


February   13. 


Hail  to  thy  returning  festival,  old  Bishop  Valentine  ! 
Great  is  thy  name  in  the  rubric.  Like  unto  thee,  assur- 
edly, there  is  no  other  mitred  father  in  the  calendar. 

Larnb. 


To-morrow  is  Saint  Valentine's  day, 
All  in  the  morninsr  betime. 


Ilatniet. 


It  is   a   very  odd   notion,    alluded   to   by  Shakespeare, 
that  on  this  day  birds  begin  to  couple. 


N.  Webster. 


February   14. 


What  if  we  should  quarrel? 

Bless  you,  all  folks  do  ! 
Will  you  take  the  war  ill, 

Yet  half  like  it  too  ? 
When  I  storm  and  jangle, 

Obstinate,  absurd, 
Will  you  sit  and  wrangle, 

Just  for  the  last  word  ? 
Or,  while  poor  Love,  crying, 

Upon  tiptoe  stands. 
Ready  plumed  for  flying, 

Will  you  smile,  shake  hands. 
And,  the  truth  beholding, 

With  a  kiss  divine 
Stop  my  rough  mouth's  scolding? 

Bless  you,  Valentine  ! 


Mrs.  Craik. 


February   15. 


Let  poets  sing 
The  chicken's  wing, 
And  buckwheat-cakes  and  griddlefishes, 
And  side  by  side 
Place  lobster  fried, 
Pork-chops,  and  other  comic  dishes ; 
But  yet,  unto  my  dying  day, 

While  o'er  my  reason  I  am  lord, 
I'll  stand  before  the  world,  and  say, 
"  The  fish-ball  is  its  own  reward  !  " 

R.  P.  Munkitri,'k. 


The  woman  who  makes  flannel  shirts  for  the  Hottentots 

is  very  apt  to   have   Hottentots   in   her  own  house  whose 

shirts  need  mending. 

J.  G.  Holland. 


February   16. 


It's  no  use  to  cry  over  spilt  milk,  we  all  know ;  but  it's 
easier  said  than  done,  that.  Womenkind,  and  especially 
single  folks,  will  take  on  dreadful  at  the  fadin'  of  their 
roses ;  and  their  frettin'  only  seems  to  make  the  thorns 
look  sharper. 

Our  minister  used  to  say  to  sister  Sal  (and,  when  she 
was  young,  she  was  a  rael  witch,  a  most  an  everlastin' 
sweet  girl),  "Sally,"  he  used  to  say,  "now's  the  time  to 
lam,  when  you  are  young :  store  your  mind  wc'l,  dear  ; 
and  the  fragrance  will  remain  long  after  the  rose  has  shed 
its  leaves.  The  otter  of  roses  is  stronger  than  the  rose, 
and  a  plaguy  sight  more  valuable." 

Samuel  Slick  of  Slickville  (T   C.  Haliburto7i\. 


February    17. 


REST    ON    THE    SABBATH. 


It  was  the  saying  of  Sir  Robert  Peel,  "  I  never  knew 
a  man  to  escape  failure,  in  either  body  or  mind,  who 
worked  seven  days  in  the  week." 


It    is    by   the    daily   lives   of  Christians    that    Christ   is 
either  honored  or  dishonored. 

Martha    Whitiin:. 


On  Sunday  heaven's  gate  stands  ope  : 

Blessings  are  plentiful  and  rife, 
More  plentiful  than  hope. 

George  Herbert. 


February   18. 


Do  not  look  for  wrong  and  evil : 

You  will  find  them  if  you  do. 
As  you  measure  for  your  neighbor, 

He  will  measure  back  to  you. 

Look  for  goodness,  look  for  gladness : 
You  will  meet  them  all  the  while. 

If  you  bring  a  smiling  visage 
To  the  glass,  you  meet  a  smile. 

Alicd  Cary. 


I  itATE  a  complainer. 


February   19. 


We  wait  for  ihy  coming,  sweet  wind  of  tlie  South, 
The  touch  of  thy  hght  wings,  the  kiss  of  thy  mouth ; 
For  the  yearly  evangel  thou  bearest  from  God, — 
Resurrection  and  life  to  the  graves  of  the  sod. 
Oh,  soul  of  the  springtime,  its  balm  and  its  breath  ! 
Oh,  light  of  its  darkness,  and  life  of  its  death  ! 
Why  wait  we  thy  coming?     Why  linger  so  long 
The  warmth  of  thy  breathing,  the  voice  of  thy  song? 

John  G.    Whittier. 


Every  evil  to  which  we  do  not  succumb  is  a  bene- 
factor. 

As  the  Sandwich  Islander  believes  that  the  strength  and 
valor  of  the  enemy  he  kills  passes  into  himself,  so  we 
gain  the  strength  of  the  temptation  we  resist. 

Emerson. 


February   20. 


CHEERFULNESS     TAUGHT     BY     REASON. 

I  THINK  we  are  too  ready  with  complaint 

In  tliis  fair  world  of  God's.     Had  we  no  hope 
Indeed  beyond  the  zenith  and  the  slope 

Of  yon  gray  bank  of  sky,  we  might  be  faint 

To  muse  upon  eternity's  constraint 

Round  our  aspirant  souls.     But  since  the  scope 
Must  widen  early,  is  it  well  to  droop 

For  a  few  days  consumed  in  loss  and  taint? 

O  pusillanimous  heart,  be  comforted,  — 

And,  like  a  cheerful  traveller,  take  the  road, 

Singing  beside  the  hedge.     What  if  the  bread 
Be  bitter  in  thine  inn,  and  thou  unshod 

To  meet  the  flints?  —  At  least  it  may  be  said, 
"  Because  the  way  is  short,  I  thank  thee,   God  !  " 

EHzabeth  Barrett  Brownitte. 


February   21. 


If  the  world  seems  cold  to  you, 

Kindle  fires  to  warm  it : 
Let  their  comfort  hide  from  view 

Winters  that  deform  it. 
Hearts  as  frozen  as  your  own 

To  that  radiance  gather : 

You  will  soon  forget  to  moan, 

"  Ah,  the  cheerless  weather  !  " 

Lucy  Larcom. 

As  welcome  as  sunshine  in  every  place 

Is  the  beaming  approach  of  a  good-natured  face ; 

As  genial  as  sunshine,  like  warmth  to  impart, 

Is  a  good-natured  word  from  a  good-natured  heart. 


Real  glorj' 
Springs  from  the  silent  conquest  of  ourselves. 

Thomson. 


February   22. 


Soldier  and  statesman,  rarest  unison ; 

High-poised  example  of  great  duties  done 
Simply  as  breathing ;  a  world's  honors  worn 

As  hfe's  indifferent  gifts  to  all  men  born. 
Dumb  for  himself,  unless  it  were  to  God, 

But  for  his  barefoot  soldiers  eloquent ; 
Tramping  the  snow  to  coral  where  they  trod, 

Held  by  his  awe  in  hollow-eyed  content. 
Modest,  yet  firm  as  nature's  self;   unblamed 

Save  by  the  men  his  nobler  temper  shamed. 
Not  honored  then  or  now  because  he  awed 

The  popular  voice,  but  that  he  still  withstood. 
Broad  minded,  higher  souled,  there  is  but  one 

\\'ho  has  all  this,  and  our's  and  all  men's  — 
Washington. 

J.  R.  Lowell. 


February   23. 


CONTENTMENT. 

Lovely,  lasting  peace,  appear ! 
This  world  itself,  if  thou  art  here, 
Is  once  again  with  Eden  blest ; 
And  man  contains  it  in  his  breast. 

Go  search  among  your  idle  dreams, 
Your  busy  or  your  vain  extremes. 
And  find  a  life  of  equal  bliss, 
Or  own  the  next  begun  in  this. 

ThoDias  Parnell. 


The   cloud-lights   of  a   wintry  sky  have   a   clear   purity 
and  brilliancy  that  no  other  months  can  rival. 

Neither  are  trees,  as    seen   in  winter,  destitute  of  their 
own  peculiar  beauty. 

Harrii't  B.  Stowc. 


February  24. 


Though  all  great  deeds  were  proved  but  fables  fine ; 

Though  earth's  old  story  could  be  told  anew ; 

Though  the  sweet  fashions  loved  of  them  that  sue 
Were  empty  as  the  ruined  Delphian  shrine  ; 
Though  God  did  never  man  in  words  benign, 

With  sense  of  his  great  fatherhood  endue  ; 

Though  life  immortal  were  a  dream  untrue, 
And  He  that  promised  it  were  not  divine  ; 
Though  soul,  though  spirit,  were  not,  and  all  hope 

Reaching  beyond  the  bourn  melted  away ; 
Though  virtue  had  no  goal,  and  good  no  scope. 

But  both  were  doomed  to  end  with  this  our  clay ; 
Though  all  these  were  not,  —  to  the  ungraced  heir 
Would  this  remain,  —  to  live  as  though  they  were. 

Jean  Ingelow. 


February   25. 


"  At  Frankfort,"  said  little  Simson,  "  I  once  saw  a 
watch  that  did  not  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  watch- 
maker. It  had  a  very  poor  movement  by  the  way,  and 
a  pinchbeck  case." 

Ileinrich  Heine. 


Give  me  the  benefit  of  your  convictions,  if  you  have 
any,  but  keep  your  doubts  to  yourself,  for  I  have  enough 
of  my  own. 


Goethe. 


There  is  strength 
Deep-bedded  in  our  hearts,  of  which  we  seek 
But  litUe  till  the  shafts  of  heaven  have  pierced 
Its  fragile  dwelling.     Must  not  earth  be  rent 
Before  her  gems  are  found? 

^[rs.  Hem  arts. 


February   26. 


FEBRUARY. 

I've  brought  some  snowdrops,  —  only  just  a  few, 
But  quite  enough  to  prove  the  world  awake, 

Cheerful  and  hopeful  in  the  frosty  dew, 
And  for  the  pale  sun's  sake. 

Christina  G.  Rossetti. 

Man   should  trust  in  God  as  if  God  did  all,  and  labor 
himself  as  if  man  did  all. 

Chalmers. 


I  KNOW  that  sunshine,  through  whatever  rift 
How  shaped  it  matters  not,  u])on  my  halls 
Paints  disks  as  perfect-rounded  as  its  source. 
And,  like  its  antitype,  the  ray  divine, 
However  finding  entrance,  perfect  still. 
Repeats  the  image  unimpaired  of  God. 

Lo-iUcU. 


February   27. 


Late  February  days  ;  and  now,  at  last, 

Might  you  have  thought  that  winter's  woe  was  past, 

So  fair  the  sky  was,  and  so  soft  the  air. 

The  happy  birds  were  hurrying  here  and  there. 

As  something  soon  would  happen.     Reddened  now 

The  hedges,  and  in  gardens  many  a  bough 

Was  overbold  of  buds.     Sweet  days,  indeed. 

William  Morris. 


February  makes  a  bridge,  and  March  breaks  it. 

Herbert. 


Cheerfulness   is   also    an  excellent  wearing  quality.     It 
has  been  called  the  bright  weather  of  the  heart. 

Smiles. 


February   28. 


Never  hunt  trouble.  However  dead  a  shot  one  may  be, 
the  gun  he  carries  on  such  expeditions  is  sure  to  kick  or 
go  off  half-cocked.  Trouble  will  come  soon  enough ;  and, 
when  he  does  come,  receive  him  as  pleasantly  as  possible. 
Like  the  tax-collector,  he  is  a  disagreeable  chap  to  have 
in  one's  house ;  but,  the  more  amiably  you  greet  him,  the 
sooner  he  will  go  away. 

Artcmiis  Ward. 


"  A  wilderness,"  says  neighbor  Black, 

"  A  desert  waste  and  wide, 
Where  rank  weeds  choke,  and  ravens  croak. 

And  noisome  reptiles  hide  !  " 
"  Ay,  so  it  is,"  says  neighbor  White ; 

"  But  haply  you  and  I 
Might  clear  the  ground  our  homes  around  — 

Come,  neighbor,  let  us  try." 

Frederick  Laiigbridge,  in  Sunday  Magazitie, 


February   29. 


What  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June?     Give  it  up?     The 
29th  of  February. 

Superfluous  woman  !     Now  is  your  time.     To-day  it  is 
woman,  not  man,  who  proposes. 


A  MAID  unasked  may  own  a  well-placed  flame  : 
Not  lovingyfrj/,  but  loving  wrong,  is  shame. 

Ovid. 


Why  should  not  woman  seek  her  happiness 
With  brow  as  unabashed  as  man  may  wear 
In  seeking  his?     Ah  !  lack  of  candor  here 
Works  more  regrets  for  woman  and  for  man 
Than  we  can  reckon. 

Epes  Sargent. 


March  1. 

Slayer  of  the  winter,  art  thou  here  again? 

Oh  welcome,  thou  that  bring'st  the  summer  nigh  ! 
The  bitter  wind  makes  not  thy  victory  vain, 

Nor  will  we  mock  thee  for  thy  faint  blue  sky. 

Welcome,  O  March  !  whose  kindly  days  and  dry 
Make  April  ready  for  the  throstle's  song, 
Thou  first  redresser  of  the  winter's  wrong  1 

Yea,  welcome  March  !  and  though  I  die  ere  June, 
Yet  for  the  hope  of  life  I  give  thee  praise. 

Striving  to  swell  the  burden  of  the  tune 

That  even  now  I  hear  thy  brown  birds  raise, 

Who  sing,  "  O  joy  !  a  new  year  has  begun  : 

What  happiness  to  look  upon  the  sun  !  " 

William  Morris. 


March  2. 

"A  MERRY  heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine." 


"  He  that  showeth  mercy,  let  him  do  it  with  cheerful- 


A  HELPING  word  to  one  in  trouble  is  often  like  a  switch 

on  a  railroad   track,  —  but  one   inch  between  wreck   and 

smooth-rolling  prosperity. 

Beecher. 


I  DO  wish  that  all  tired  people  did  but  know  the  infi- 
nite rest  there  is  in  fencing  off  the  six  days  from  the 
seventh,  —  in  anchoring  the  business-ships  of  our  daily  life 
as  the  Saturday  draws  to  its  close,  leaving  them  to  ride 
peacefully  upon  the  flow  or  the  ebb  until  Monday  morn- 
ing comes  again. 

Anna    JVarner. 


March  3. 

What  a  beautiful  word  is  spring!  At  least  one  fancies 
so,  knowing  the  meaning  of  it,  and  being  used  to  identify 
it  with  so  many  pleasant  things.  An  Italian  might  find 
it  harsh,  and  object  to  the  sp  and  the  terminating  con- 
sonant :  but  if  he  were  a  proper  Italian,  a  man  of  fancy, 
the  worthy  countryman  of  Petrarch  and  Ariosto,  we 
would  convince  him  that  the  word  was  an  excellent 
good  word,  crammed  as  full  of  beauty  as  a  bud ;  and 
that  s  had  the  whistling  of  the  brooks  in  it ;  /  and  r  the 
force  and  roughness  of  whatsoever  is  animated  and  pic- 
turesque ;  ing  the  singing  of  the  birds ;  and  the  whole 
word   the   suddenness   and   salience   of  all   that   is   lively, 

sprouting,  and  new. 

Leigh  Hunt. 


Sunshine  is  like  love, — it  makes  every  thing  shine  with 
its  own  beauty. 

Wilson. 


March  4. 

As  the  wild  air  stirs  and  sways 
The  tree-swung  cradle  of  a  child, 

So  the  breath  of  these  rude  days 
Rocks  the  year.     Be  calm  and  mild, 

Trembling  hours :  she  will  arise 

With  new  love  within  her  eyes. 

Shelley. 


Our  life  is  March  weather,  savage  and  serene  in  one 
hour. 


Emerson. 


Spring  is  over  the  world,  the  seeds  buried  in  the  earth 
burst  to  flower,  but  man's  heart  knoweth  not  the  sweet 
divisions  of  the  seasons.  In  winter  or  summer,  autumn 
or  spring,  alike,  his  thoughts  sow  the  germ  of  actions; 
and  day  after  day  his  destiny  gathers  in  her  harvests. 

Bulwer  Lytton^ 


March  5. 

For  well  I  know,  o'er  sunny  seas 
The  bluebird  waits  for  April  skies ; 

And  at  the  roots  of  forest-trees 

The  Mayflowers  sleep  in  fragrant  ease, 

And  violets  hide  their  azure  eyes. 

O  thou,  by  winds  of  grief  o'erblown 
Beside  some  golden  summer's  bier, 

Take  heart !     Thy  birds  are  only  flown, 
Thy  blossoms  sleeping,  tearful  sowni. 

To  greet  thee  in  the  immortal  }'ear. 

Edna  Dean  Proctor. 


A   CALAMITY   is   always  the  better   borne  for   not   being 
previously  dwelt  upon. 


Mtne.  Bunseti. 


Love  is  sunshine :  hate  is  shadow. 

Longfellow. 


March  6. 

Vague  rumors  are  afloat  in  tlie  air  of  a  great  and  coming 
change,  —  Winter  to  be  gone  ;  but  he  will  not  abdicate  with- 
out a  struggle.  Day  after  day  he  rallies  his  scattered  forces, 
and  night  after  night  pitches  his  white  tents  on  the  hills,  and 
would  fain  regain  his  lost  ground ;  but  the  young  prince  in 
every  encounter  prevails.  Slowly  and  reluctantly  the  gray 
old  hero  retreats  up  the  mountain,  till  finally  the  south  rain 
comes  in  earnest,  and  in  a  night  he  is  dead. 

John  Bin-roughs. 


None  are  so  old  as  those  who  have   outlived  enthusi- 
asm. 

Be  not  simply  good  —  be  good  for  something. 

Thorcaii. 


March  7. 

In  this  world,  where  there  is  so  much  real  sorrow,  and 
so  much  unnecessary  grief  of  fret  and  worry ;  where  men 
stumble  in  rough  paths,  and  so  many  push  them  down 
rather  than  help  them  up ;  where  tears  are  as  common  as 
smiles,  and  hearts  ache  so  easily,  but  are  poorly  fed  on 
higher  joys,  —  how  grateful  ought  we  to  be  that  God  sends 
along,  here  and  there,  a  natural  heart-singer,  —  a  man  whose 
nature  is  large  and  luminous,  and  who,  by  his  very  carriage 
and  spontaneous  actions,  calms,  cheers,  and  helps  his  fel- 
lows.    God  bless  the  good  natured,  for  they  bless  everybody 

else  ! 

Beecher. 


March  8. 

Give  me  of  the  brook's  faith,  joyously  sung 

Under  clank  of  its  icy  chain  ! 
Give  me  the  patience  that  hides  among 

Thy  hilltops  in  mist  and  rain  ! 
Lift  me  up  from  the  clod,  let  me  breathe  thy  breath, 

Thy  beauty  and  strength  give  me  ! 

Let  me  lose  both  the  name  and  the  meaning  of  death 

In  the  life  that  I  share  with  thee  ! 

Lucy  Larcom. 


Sit  down,  sad  soul,  and  count 

The  moments  flying : 
Come,  tell  the  sad  amount 

That's  lost  by  sighing. 
How  many  smiles?     A  score? 
Then,  laugh  and  count  no  more, 

For  day  is  dying. 

Tennyson. 


March  9. 

De.\r  dead  !  they  have  become 

Like  guardian  angels  to  us ; 
And  distant  heaven  like  home, 

Through  them  begins  to  woo  us; 
Love  that  was  earthly,  wings 
Its  flight  to  holier  places  : 

The  dead  are  sacred  things 
That  multiply  our  graces. 

Those  whom  we  loved  on  earth 

Attract  us  now  to  heaven ; 
Who  shared  our  grief  and  mirth, 

Back  to  us  now  are  given  : 
They  move  with  noiseless  foot 

Gravely  and  sweetly  round  us, 
And  their  soft  touch  hath  cut 
Full  many  a  chain  that  bound  us. 

F.  IV.  Faber 


March  10. 


Be  more  cheerful ;  do  not  worry : 
There  is  time  enough  to  do 

Every  day  the  daily  duties 

That  your  Father  sendeth  you, 

And  to  find  some  little  moments 
For  heart-music  fresh  and  new. 


A  MAN  must  be    excessively  stupid,  as  well    as    unchari- 
table, who    believes    there    is    no  virtue    but    on    his    own 

side. 

Addison. 


In   conversation  with    the    egotist,  all    subjects    lead    to 
kis  "I,"  as  "All  roads  lead  to  Rome." 


March  11. 

I  WOULD  not  have  my  life  go  on, 
A  level  stretch  from  sun  to  sun, 
With  nothing  for  my  gaze  to  meet 
But  pleasant  places  for  the  feet, 
No  glorious  hills  for  me  to  mount, 
No  obstacles  by  which  to  count 
My  progress  on  the  path  I  tread, 
And  naught  but  sunshine  overhead. 

If  life  ran  on  so  smooth  a  plane. 

With  more  of  bliss,  and  less  of  pain ; 

If  here  we  never  suffered  loss. 

But  held  the  gold  without  the  dross. 

And  found  the  treasures  in  our  trust 

Untarnished  by  a  grain  of  rust,  — 

If  unto  us  such  bliss  were  given, 

Oh  !  would  we  have  one  thought  of  heaven  ? 

Josephine  Pollard. 


March  12. 


Though  the  transient  springs  have  failed  thee, 
Though  the  founts  of  youth  are  dried, 

Wilt  thou  among  the  mouldering  stones 
In  weariness  abide? 

Up  and  onward  !     Toward  the  East 

Green  oases  thou  shalt  find, — 
Streams  that  rise  from  higher  sources 

Than  the  pools  thou  leav'st  behind. 


Life  has  import  more  inspiring 
Than  the  fancies  of  thy  youth : 

It  has  hopes  as  high  as  heaven, 
It  has  labors,  it  has  truth. 

It  has  wrongs  that  may  be  righted, 
Noble  deeds  that  may  be  done : 

Its  great  battles  are  unfought, 
Its  great  triumphs  are  unwon. 


Afrs.  A.  C.  L.  Botta. 


March  13. 

Things  seem  to  die,  but  die  not.     The  spring-showers 
Die  on  the  bosom  of  the  motherly  Earth, 

But  rise  again  in  fruits  and  leaves  and  flowers ; 
And  every  death  is  nothing  but  a  birth. 

Lucretius. 


Of  all  bad  things  with  which  mankind  arc  curst, 
Their  own  bad  tempers  surely  are  the  worst. 

Menander, 


Learn  thy  tnie  self,  and  live  it. 

Pindar. 


March   14. 


DAFFODIL. 

Gold  tassel  upon  March's  bugle-horn, 

Whose  blithe  reveille  blows  from  hill  to  hill, 
And  every  valley  rings,  O  Daffodil ! 

What  promise  for  the  season  newly  born? 

Shall  wave  on  wave  of  flowers,  full  tide  of  com, 
O'erflow  the  world,  then  fruited  Autumn  fill 
Hedgerow  and  garth?     Shall  tempest,  blight,  or  chill 

Turn  all  felicity  to  scathe  and  scorn? 

Tantarrara  !    the  joyous  Book  of  Spring 
Lies  open,  writ  in  blossoms ;    not  a  bird 
Of  evil  augury  is  seen  or  heard. 

Come,  now  !   like  Pan's  old  crew  we'll  dance  and  sing, 

Or  Oberon's  ;    for  hill  and  valley  ring 

To  March's  bugle-horn  :    Earth's  blood  is  stiired. 

I'F.  A. 


March  15. 

It  is  the  first  mid-day  of  March, 
Each  minute  sweeter  than  before  : 

The  redbreast  sings  from  the  tall  larch 
That  stands  beside  our  door. 

There  is  a  blessing  in  the  air, 

Which  seems  a  sense  of  joy  to  yield 

To  the  bare  trees,  and  mountains  bare. 
And  grass  in  the  green  field. 

Wordnvorth. 


Man\'  Christians  do  greatly  wrong  themselves  with  a  dull 
and  heavy  kind  of  sullenness ;  who,  not  suffering  them- 
selves to  delight  in  any  worldly  thing,  are  thereupon 
ofttimes  so  heartless  that  they  delight  in  nothing. 

Bishop  HaU. 


March  16. 


Who  said  that  March  was  a  scold  and  a  slirew? 
Who  said  she  had  nothing  on  earth  to  do 
But  tempests  and  furies  and  rages  to  brew? 
Why,  look  at  the  wealth  she  has  lavished  on  you  ! 

O  March  that  blusters,  and  March  that  blows, 
What  color  under  your  footsteps  glows  ! 
Beauty  you  summon  from  winter  snows, 
And  you  are  the  pathway  that  leads  to  the  rose. 

Celia   Thaxter. 


When  daffodils  begin  to  peer 

With  heigh  1  the  doxy  over  the  dale, 

Why,  then  comes  in  the  sweet  o'  the  year. 
For  the  red  blood  reigns  in  the  winter's  pale. 

Shakespeare. 


March   17. 


THE     OAK. 


How  doth  his  patient  strength  the  rude  March  ^vind 
Persuade  to  seem  glad  breaths  of  summer  breeze, 

And  win  the  soil  that  fain  would  be  unkind, 
To  swell  his  revenues  with  proud  increase  ! 

So  from  oft  converse  with  Hfe's  wintry  gales, 

Should  man  learn  how  to  clasp  with  tougher  roots 

The  inspiring  earth ;  how  otherwise  avails 
The  leaf,  creating  sap  that  sunward  shoots. 

ImwcU. 


I  DARE  no  more  fret  than  I  dare  curse  and  swear. 

John    Wesley. 


March   18. 

A     PLAIN     MAN'S     PHILOSOPHY. 

"  A  GLOOMY  world,"  says  neighbor  Black, 

"  Where  clouds  of  dreary  dun, 
In  masses  rolled,  the  sky  infold, 

And  blot  the  noonday  sun  1 " 
"  Ay,  so  it  is,"  says  neighbor  White ; 

"But  haply  you  and  I 
Might  shed  a  ray  to  cheer  the  way  — 

Come,  neighbor,  let  us  try." 

"  A  vale  of  tears,"  says  neighbor  Black, 

"  A  vale  of  weary  breath. 
Of  soul-wrung  sighs  and  hopeless  eyes, 

From  birth  to  early  death  ! " 
"  Ay,  so  it  is,"  says  neighbor  White ; 

"  But  haply  you  and  I, 
Just  there  and  here,  might  dry  a  tear  — 

Come,  neighbor,  let  us  try." 


March   19. 


"  This  world  is  not  so  bad  a  world 
As  some  would  like  to  make  it ; 

For  whether  good  or  whether  bad, 
Depends  on  how  you  take  it." 


A  NEGRO  minister  widower,  who  married  rather  sooner 
than  some  of  the  sisters  thought  proper  and  becoming, 
excused  himself  as  follows :  "  My  dear  brethren  and 
sisters,  my  grief  was  greater  than  I  could  bear.  I  turned 
every  way  for  peace  and  comfort,  but  none  came.  I 
searched  the  Scriptures  from  Ginisee  to  Reverlations,  and 
found  plenty  of  promises  to  the  widder,  but  narry  one  to 
the  widderer.  And  so  I  took  it  that  the  Lord  didn't 
waste  sympatliy  on  a  man  when  it  was  in  his  power  to 
comfort  himself;  and,  having  a  first-rate  chance  to  marry 
in  the  Lord,  I  did  so  again.  Besides,  brethren,  I  consider 
that  poor  Betsy  was  just  as  dead  as  she  would  ever  be." 


March   20. 


You  observe  a  man  becoming  day  by  day  holier,  or 
advancing  in  station,  or  increasing  in  professional  reputa- 
tion, and  you  set  him  down  as  a  successful  man  in  life. 
But  if  his  home  is  an  ill-regulated  one,  where  no  links 
of  affection  extend  throughout  the  family,  whose  former 
domestics  (and  he  has  had  more  of  them  than  he  can 
well  remember)  look  back  upon  their  sojourn  with  him 
as  one  unblessed  by  kind  words  or  deeds,  I  contend 
that  that  man  has  not  been  successful. 

Arthur  Helps. 


He  who  loves  to  read,  and  knows  how  to  reflect,  has 
laid  by  a  perpetual  feast  for  his  old  age. 


March  21. 


When  the  hounds  of  Spring  are  on  Winter's  traces, 
The  mother  of  montlis  in  meadow  or  plain 

Fills  the  shadows  and  windy  places 
With  lisp  of  leaves  and  ripple  of  rain. 

Swinburne. 


March.     Its  tree,  juniper; 
Its  stone,  blood-stone  ; 
Its  motto,  Courage  and  strength  in  times  of  danger. 

Ah, "March!  we  know  thou  art 
Kind-hearted,  spite  of  ugly  looks  and  threats, 
And  out  of  siglit  are  nursing  April's  violets  ! 

Helen  Hunt. 


March   22. 


Now  when  the  budding  spring  escapes  from  winter's  durance, 
Hope  hath  its  flowering,  and  faith  its  sweet  assurance. 
How  shall  our  hearts  be  sad  when  Nature's  flice  rejoices, 
And  earth  and  air  are  glad  with  her  tumultuous  voices? 
Ears  that  His  message  seek,  and  doubt  not  in  possessing, 
To  them  the  winds  shall  speak  in  undertones  of  blessing ; 
And  to  the  seeing  eyes.  His  gracious  works  beholding, 
No  little  bird  that  flies,  no  small  green  thing  unfolding, 
But  shall  His  love  express  who  doth  our  souls  deliver, 
Whose  holy  name  we  bless  and  magnify  forever. 

Praise  Him,  O  soul  of  mine  !  nor  ever  cease  from  praising, 
Though  olive-tree  and  vine  be  blighted  in  the  raising; 
Though  flood  and  frost  and  fire  assail  me  in  one  morning, 
And  though  my  heart's  desire  shall  perish  without  warning  ! 
Still  shall  His  rivers  flow,  the  heavens  declare  His  glory ; 
Still  shall  His  green  things  grow,  ?Iis  winds  repeat  their  story  ; 
And  I,  who  sit  to-day  beneath  the  cloud  of  sorrow, 
And  see  no  opening  way  for  sunshine  for  the  morrow, 
Still  by  His  mighty  word  upheld  for  fresh  endeavor. 
Will  magnify  tlie  Lord,  and  bless  His  name  forever. 

Mary  E.  Bradley. 


March  23. 


OPPORTUNITY. 

And  this  I  saw,  or  dreamed  it  in  a  dream  :  — 
There  spread  a  cloud  of  dust  along  a  plain ; 
And  underneath  the  cloud,  or  in  it,  raged 
A  furious  battle,  and  men  yelled,  and  swords 
Shocked  upon  swords  and  shields.     A  prince's  banner 
Wavered,  then  staggered  backward,  hemmed  by  foes. 
A  craven  hung  along  the  battle's  edge, 
And  thought,  "  Had  I  a  sword  of  keener  steel,  — 
That  blue  blade  that  the  king's  son  bears  —  but  this 
Blunt  thing  !  "  —    He  snapt  and  flung  it  from  his  hand, 
And,  lowering,  crept  away,  and  left  the  field. 
Then  came  the  king's  son,  wounded,  sore  bestead, 
And  weaponless,  and  saw  the  broken  sword. 
And  ran  and  snatched  it,  and,  with  battle-shout 
Lifted  afresh,  he  hewed  his  enemy  down. 
And  saved  a  great  cause  that  heroic  day. 

E.  R.  Sill. 


March  24. 


A  SUBTLE  red 
Of  life  is  kindling  every  twig  and  stalk 
Of  lowly  meadow  growths ;    the  willows  wrap 
Their  stems  in  furry  white  ;    the  pines  grow  gray 
A  little  in  the  biting  wind  ;    mid-day 
Brings  tiny  burrowed  creatures,  peeping  out, 
Alert  for  sun. 

"H.  //." 


The  "blues  "  are  generally  a  sin.  No  one  has  a  right  to 
yield  to  disappointment  or  discouragement,  or  to  distrust 
his  heavenly  Father,  or  to  carry  even  the  light  burden  of  a 
half-conscious,  unforgiven  sin,  or  to  overwork  and  exhaus! 
the  wonderful  mechanism  which  God  has  given  him.  But 
repentance  is  as  many-formed  as  sin ;  and,  when  the  sin  is 
overv\\)rk,  repentance  is  rest. 

Lyvtaii  Abbott. 


March  25. 


Never  did  a  sunbeam  shine  in  vain,  and  therefore  no 
sunbeam  that  ever  streaked  this  world  with  light  could  be 
finally  lost.  Yet  the  sunbeam,  lovely  as  it  is,  has  had  its 
grave ;  and  there,  sometimes  for  unnumbered  ages,  it  has 
slept  in  undisturbed  repose.  What  is  coal  but  latent  sun- 
beams, which  need  only  to  be  ignited  to  start  again  into 
active  life?  The  sun,  when  many  thousand  years  younger 
than  he  is  now,  cast  forth  his  radiant  beams  on  the  surface 
of  the  world,  and  noble  trees  of  ferns  and  other  acrogens 
started  at  his  bidding  into  vigorous  life  :  they  lived,  died, 
and  underwent  changes  which  made  them  coal,  —  yes,  coal ! 
and  the  old  sun,  he  did  it  all.  These  sunbeams  have  long 
been  burned  in  the  form  of  coal ;  and  though,  by  ignition, 
their  resurrection  life  is  but  a  dim  shadow  of  their  early 
briglitness,  they  are  yet  sunbeams.  We  have  nothing  but 
sunlight  in  summer  or  winter,  think  or  talk  as  we  may.  The 
fire  on  our  hearths,  the  gas  in  our  tubes,  the  oil  in  our 
lamps,  and  the  candles  on  our  tables,  are  all  products  of  the 
sunbeam.  Brooke. 


March   26. 


When  the  hill-side  breaks  into  green,  every  hollow  of  blue 
shade,  every  curve  of  tuft  and  plume  and  tendril,  .every 
broken  sunbeam  on  spray  of  young  leaves,  is  new.  No 
spring  is  a  representation  of  a  former  spring. 

Goethe. 


The  dial 
Receives  many  shades,  and  each  points  to  the  sun : 
The  shadows  are  many,  the  sunlight  is  one. 
Life's  sorrows  still  fluctuate  :  God's  love  does  not, 
And  His  love  is  unchanged  when  it  changes  our  lot. 
Looking  up  to  this  light,  which  is  common  to  all, 
And  down  to  those  shadows  on  each  side,  that  fall 
In  Time's  silent  aisle,  so  various  for  each, 
Is  it  nothing  to  know  that  they  never  can  reach 
So  far  but  that  light  lies  beyond  them  forever? 

Oweii  Meredith. 


March  27. 


Wondrous  is  the  strength  of  cheerfulness,  altogether  past 
calculation  its  powers  of  endurance.  Efforts,  to  be  perma- 
nently useful,  must  be  uniformly  joyous,  —  a  spirit  all  sun- 
shine, graceful  from  very  gladness,  beautiful  because  bright. 

Carlyle. 


Be  cheerful :  do  not  brood  over  fond  hopes  unrealized 
until  a  chain,  link  after  link,  is  fastened  on  each  thought 
and  wound  around  the  heart.  Nature  intended  you  to  be 
the  fountain-spring  of  cheerfulness  and  social  life,  and  not 
the  travelling  monument  of  despair  and  melancholy. 

Arthur  Helps. 


March  28. 


PENSEES. 

Bethink  you,  while  the  tears  do  nin, 
No  cloud  would  rise  but  for  the  sun. 

The  sap  is  bitter  in  the  bark 

That  sweetens  in  the  fruit  above ; 

And  spirits  toiling  through  the  dark 
Shall  reach  at  last  their  light  of  love. 

We  hear  the  arrows  in  the  dark  go  by : 

The  cowering  soul  no  longer  soars  or  sings, 

Or  it  might  know  God's  presence  then  most  nigh, 
Our  darkness  being  the  shadow  of  his  wings. 

Gerald  Massey. 


March  29. 


SNOWDROPS. 

These  first  flowers  of  spring,  —  what  a  gracious  charm 
they  have  !   a  charm  which  is  all  their  own  ! 

The  meanest  and  poorest  little  blossom  is  more  to  us 
to-day  than  a  whole  parterre  of  gayly  colored  summer  favor- 
ites will  be  a  few  months  hence. 


"  Make  Thou  my  spirit  pure  and  clear 
As  are  the  frosty  skies, 
Or  this  first  snowdrop  of  the  year 
That  in  my  bosom  lies." 


March  30. 


Though  the  sun  scorches  us  sometimes,  and  gives  us  the 
headache,  we  do  not  refuse  tu  acknowledge  that  we  stand  in 
need  of  his  warmth. 

Philip  de  J\Io7nay. 


There  is  a  bright  side  to  religion,  and   I  love  to  see 

Ciiristians  walking  in  the  sunshine.     I  trust  you  have  found 

this  out  for  yourself. 

Mrs.  E.  Prentiss. 


O  Sun  !    of  this  great  world,  both  eye  and  soul. 

ISIillon. 


March  31. 

March,  just  ready  to  depart,  begins 
To  soften  into  April. 

Brya7jt. 


Were  a  star  quenched  on  high, 

For  ages  would  its  light, 
Still  travelling  downward  from  the  sky, 

Shine  on  our  mortal  sight. 

So  when  a  great  man  dies, 

For  years  beyond  our  ken 
The  light  he  leaves  behind  him  lies 

Upon  the  paths  of  men. 

Lon^ellow, 


April  1. 

The  compliments  of  the  season  and  a  merry  first  of 
April  to  us  all ! 

Take  my  word  for  this,  reader,  and  say  a  fool  told  it 
you,  if  you  please,  that  he  who  hath  not  a  drachm  of 
folly  in  his  mixture,  hath  pounds  of  much  worse  matter  in 
his  composition.  And  what  are  commonly  the  world's  re- 
ceived fools  but  such  whereof  the  world  is  not  worthy? 
And  what  have  been  some  of  the  kindliest  patterns  of  our 
species  but  so  many  darlings  of  absurdity,  minions  of  the 
goddess  and  her  white  boys  ? 

Reader,  if  you  wrest  my  words  beyond  their  fair  con- 
struction, it  is  you,  and  not  I,  that  are  the  April  fool. 

Charles  Lamb. 


April  2. 

Nothing   is    surer   than   that  the  soul  will  win  what   it 

wants.     If  it  desires  God,  it  will  gain  him.     The  principle 

of  constancy  in  heavenly  as  in  earthly  affairs  is  greater  than 

the  greatest  mood. 

E.  S.  Fhdps. 


My  name  is  April,  sir :  and  I 
Often  laugh,  as  often  cry; 
And  I  cannot  tell  what  makes  me  ! 
Only,  as  the  fit  o'ertakes  me, 
I  must  dimple,  smile,  and  frown, 
Laughing,  though  the  tears  roll  down. 
But  'tis  nature,  sir,  not  art ; 
And  I'm  happy  at  my  heart. 

Mrs.  Z.  B.   Gustafson. 


April  3. 

O  RAINY  days  !     O  days  of  sun  ! 

What  are  ye  all  when  the  year  is  done? 

Who  shall  remember  sun  or  rain? 
O  years  of  loss  1     O  joyful  years  ! 
What  are  ye  when  all  heaven  appears? 

Who  shall  look  back  for  joy  or  pain? 

IV.  P.  Foster. 


To  know  how  to  say  what  other  people  only  think,  is 

what  makes  men  poets  and  sages ;  and  to  dare  to  say  what 

others  only  dare  to  think,  makes  men  martyrs  or  reformers, 

or  both. 

Mrs.  Charles. 


April  4. 

When  we  shall  be  endowed  with  our  spiritual  bodies, 
I  think  that  they  will  be  so  constituted  that  we  may  send 
thoughts  and  feelings  any  distance  in  no  time  at  all. 

Hawthorne. 


Many  a  parent  heart  before, 
Laden  till  it  could  bear  no  more, 
Has  seen  a  heavenward  light  that  smiled, 
And  knew  it  placed  there  by  a  child, — 
A  long-gone  child,  whose  anxious  face 
Gazed  toward  them  down  the  deeps  of  space, 
Longing  for  the  loved  to  come 
To  the  quiet  of  that  home. 

T.  Buchanan  Read, 


A-PRIL    5. 

The  spring  is  in  the  air; 
For,  with  the  first  warm  kisses  of  the  rain, 
The  winter's  icy  sorrow  breaks  to  tears ; 

And  the  brown  thrushes  mate ;  and  with  bright  eyes  the 
rabbit  peers 
From  the  dark  warren  where  the  fir-cones  he. 

And  treads  one  snowdrop  underfoot,  and  runs 
Over  the  mossy  knoll;    and  black-birds  fly 

Across  our  path  at  evening  and  the  sun's. 
Stay  longer  with  us  !  Ah,  how  good  to  see 
Grass-girdled  Spring  in  all  her  joy  of  laughing  greenery  ! 

Oscar   Wilde. 


I  AM  thinking  of  the  lilac-trees 
That  shook  their  purple  plumes, 

And,  when  the  sash  was  open. 
Shed  fragrance  through  the  rooms. 

Mrs.  Stephens. 


April  6. 

Oh,  this  April  weather  ! 

Breath  of  bahii  and  snow ; 
June  and  March  together 

In  an  hour  or  so. 

Something  altogether 

Charming  in  it  too ; 
Not  the  worst  of  weather 

When  the  sun  shines  through. 

Taken  altogether, 

It's  the  counterpart. 
This  queer  April  weather, 

Of  —  yourself,  sweetheart. 

A^ora  Perry. 


If  you  would  create  something,  you  must  be  something. 

Goethe. 


April  7. 

The  April  winds  are  magical, 
And  thrill  our  tuneful  frames. 

R.   IV.  E77ierson. 


To  the  giver  shall  be  given. 
If  thou  wouldst  walk  in  light, 
Make  other  spirits  bright : 
Who,  seeking  for  himself  alone,  ever  entered  heaven? 
In  blessing  we  are  blest, 
In  labor  find  our  rest ; 
If  we  bend  not  to  the  world's  work,  heart  and  hand  and 
brain, 
We  have  lived  our  life  in  vain. 

Caroline  Seymour. 


April  8. 

"Unto  you  that  fear  my  name  shall  the  Sun    of  right- 
eousness arise  with  healins;  in  his  winrjs." 


He  sendeth  sun,  he  sendeth  shovvei ; 
Alike  they're  needful  for  the  flower : 
And  joys  and  tears  alike  are  sent 
To  give  the  soul  fit  nourishment. 
As  comes  to  me  or  cloud  or  sun, 
Father,  thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done  ! 

S.  F.  Adams. 


A  STRAIGHT  line  is  the  shortest  in  morals  as   in   mathe- 
matics. 

Maria  Edgcworth. 


April  9. 

Like  a  blind  spinner  in  the  sun 

I  tread  my  days. 
I  know  that  all  the  threads  will  run 

Appointed  ways. 
I  know  each  day  will  bring  its  task ; 

And,  being  blind,  no  more  I  ask. 

Helen  Hunt. 


Lord,  all  thy  works  are  lessons.     Each  contains 

Some  emblem  of  man's  all-containing  soul : 
Shall  he  make  fruitless  all  thy  glorious  pains. 

Delving  within  thy  grace  an  eyeless  mole? 
Make  me  the  least  of  thy  Dodona  grove ; 

Cause  me  some  message  of  thy  truth  to  bring; 
Speak  but  a  word  through  me,  nor  let  thy  love 

Among  my  boughs  disdain  to  perch  and  sing. 

7.  R.  Lowell. 


April  lO. 

As  thy  days  thy  strength  shall  be  : 
This  should  be  enough  for  thee ; 
He  who  knovvs  thy  frame  will  spare 
Burdens  more  than  thou  canst  bear. 

Francis  Ridley  Havergal. 


"  But  it  shall  come  to  pass,  that  at  evening  time  it  shall 
be  light." 


The  vault  is  blue, 
Without  a  cloud ;    and  white  without  a  speck 
The  dazzling  splendor  of  the  scene  below. 

Ccnvper. 


April  U. 

Earth  is  a  wintry  clod ; 
But  spring  wind,  like  a  dancing  psaltress,  passes 
Over  its  breast  to  waken  it :  rare  verdure 
Buds  tenderly  upon  rough  banks,  between 
The  withered  tree-roots  and  the  cracks  of  frost. 
Like  a  smile  striving  with  a  wrinkled  face. 
The  grass  grows  bright ;  the  boughs  are  swol'n  with  blooms, 
Like  chrysalids  impatient  for  the  air ; 
The  shining  dors  are  busy ;  beetles  run 
Along  the  furrows ;  ants  make  their  ado  ; 
Above,  birds  fly  in  merry  flocks,  —  the  lark 
Soai's  up  and  up,  shivering  for  very  joy ; 
Savage  creatures  seek  their  loves  in  wood  and  plain ; 
And  God  renews  his  ancient  rapture. 

Robert  Browning. 


April  12. 

Again  has  come  the  spring-time, 

With  the  crocus's  golden  bloom, 
With  the  smell  of  the  fresh-turned  earth-mould, 

And  the  violet's  perfume. 

S.  Longfellcra.1. 


Oh  !  teach  me,  thou  forest,  to  testify  glad. 
As  in  autumn  the  gloom  of  thy  yellowing  leaf. 

That  my  spring  cometh  back  after  winter,  the  seed ; 
That  my  tree  gleameth  green  after  mournfulness  brief; 

The  roots  of  my  tree  stand  deep,  strong,  and  divine 

In  eternity's  summer :  oh,  why,  then,  repine  ! 

From  the  Danish. 


What  a  pity  that  wrinkles  should  not  be  all  under  our 
heels  instead  of  on  our  faces !  It  would  be  a  much 
better  arrangement. 


A^inon  de  rEnclos. 


April  13. 

These  two  things,  contradictory  as  they  may  seem, 
must  go  together,  —  manly  dependence  and  manly  inde- 
pendence, manly  reliance  and  manly  self-reliance. 

Wordsworth. 


I  WANT  a  sofa,  as  I  want  a  friend,  upon  which  I  can 
repose  familiarly.  If  I  can't  have  intimate  terms  and 
freedom  with  one  and  the  other,  they  are  of  no  good. 

Thackeray. 


True   friends  visit   us    in   prosperity  only  when   invited, 
but  in  adversity  they  come  without  invitation. 

Theophrastus. 


April  14. 

DAY     BY     DAY. 

Why  do  we  heap  huge  mounds  of  years 

Before  us  and  behind, 
And  scorn  the  Httle  days  that  pass 

Like  angels  on  the  wind? 

Each  turning  round  a  small,  sweet  face, 

As  beautiful  as  near ; 
Because  it  has  so  small  a  face, 

We  will  not  see  it  clear. 


And  so  it  turns  from  us,  and  goes 

Away  in  sad  disdain  : 
Though  we  would  give  our  lives  for  it, 

It  never  comes  again. 

Yet  every  day  has  its  dawn, 

Its  noontide,  and  its  eve  : 
Live  while  we  live,  giving  God  thanks,  — 

He  will  not  let  us  grieve. 

Mrs.  Craik. 


April  15. 

\V'hen  you  lie  down,  close  your  eyes  with  a  short  prayer, 
commit  yourself  into  the  hands  of  your  faithful  Creator; 
and,  when  you  have  done,  trust  him  with  yourself,  as  you 
must  do  when  you  are  dying. 

ye7-emy   Taylor. 


Religion  gives  part  of  its  reward  in  hand,  —  the  present 
comfort  of  having  done  our  duty ;  and,  for  the  rest,  it 
offers  us  the  best  security  that  heaven  can  give. 

Tillotson. 


Whether  religion  be  true  or  false,  it  must  be  necessa- 
rily granted  to  be  the  only  wise  principle  and  safe 
hypothesis  for  a  man  to  live  and  die  by. 

Tillotson. 


April  16. 

Be  what  nature  intended  you  for,  and  you  will  succeed. 
Be  any  thing  else,  and  you  will  be  ten  thousand  times 
worse  than  nothing. 

Sydney  Smith. 

Life,  believe,  is  not  a  dream 

So  dark  as  sages  say : 
Oft  a  little  morning  rain 

Foretells  a  pleasant  day. 
Sometimes  there  are  clouds  of  gloom, 

But  these  are  transient  all : 
If  the  shower  will  make  the  roses  bloom. 

Oh!  why  lament  its  fall? 
Rapidly,  merrily, 

Life's  sunny  hours  flit  by, 
Gratefully,  cheerily. 

Enjoy  them  as  they  fly. 

Cnrrer  Hell. 
{Charlotte  Ij route.) 


April   17. 

Be  cheerful,  no  matter  what  reverse  obstruct  your  path- 
way, or  what  plagues  follow  you  in  your  trail  to  annoy 
you.  Ask  yourself  what  is  to  be  gained  by  looking  or 
feeling  sad  when  troubles  throng  around  you,  or  how  your 
condition  is  to  be  alleviated  by  abandoning  yourself  to 
despondency.  ...  Be  cheerful. 

Art/iur  Helps. 


CHEERFULNESS. 

Some  wise  man  once  remarked,  that  he  would  rather 
be  born  possessed  of  a  cheerful  and  contented  disposition 
than  heir  to  twenty  thousand  a  year.  He  was  right  in 
his  choice  :  for  a  cheerful  nature,  like  a  Claude  Lorraine 
glass,  tinges  all  objects  with  sunlight ;  while  a  discontented 
disposition  makes  itself  miserable  everywhere,  and  in  the 
greatest  prosperity  can  sing,  — 

"  If  it's  fine  to-day,  it  will  rain  to-morrow ; 
So  let  us  all  be  unhappy  together." 


April  18. 

ARBUTUS. 

Oft  have  I  walked  these  woodland  paths 
Without  the  blest  foreknowing 

That  underneath  the  withered  leaves 
The  fairest  flowers  were  growing. 

O  prophet  soul  !    with  lips  of  bloom, 

Outvying,  in  your  beauty. 
The  pearly  tints  of  ocean  shells, 

Ye  teach  me  faith  and  duty. 

Walk  life's  dark  paths,  they  seem  to  say. 
With  Love's  divine  foreknowing, 

That  where  man  sees  but  withered  leaves, 
God  sees  the  sweet  flowers  growing. 

Leii'hton. 


Hard  work  will  best  uncertain  fortune  mend. 


April  19. 

When  on  your  home  falls  unforeseen  distress, 
Half-clothed  come  neighbors  :    kinsmen  stay  to  dress. 

Hesiod. 


One  of  the  best  rules  in  conversation  is,  never  to  say 
a  thing  which  any  of  the  company  can  reasonably  wish 
we  had  rather  left  unsaid ;  nor  can  there  any  thing  be 
well  more  contrary  to  the  ends  for  which  people  meet 
together  than  to  part  unsatisfied  with  each  other  or  them- 
selves. 

Swift. 


You  may  keep  your  beauty  and  your  health,  unless  you 
destroy  them  yourself,  or  discourage  them  to  stay  with 
you  by  using  them  ill. 

Sir   W.   Temple. 


April  20. 

Health  is  coming  into  fasliion.  Now  that  the  country 
is  becoming  safe,  we  must  again  turn  our  attention  to  the 
health  of  our  girls.  Unless  they  are  healthy,  the  country 
is  not  safe.  The  fate  of  our  institutions  may  hang  on  the 
precise  temperament  which  our  next  president  shall  have 
inherited  from  his  mother. 

T.   fV.  ///•'■iT'/ison. 


All  discouragement  is  of  tlie  Devil.     When  Trust  comes 
in,  Worry  goes  out. 


Every  tear  is  answered  by  a  blossom ; 
Every  sigh  with  songs  and  laughter  blent ; 
Apple-blooms  upon  the  breezes  toss  them ; 
April  knows  her  own,  and  is  content. 

Susan  Coolid'je. 


April  21. 


THE   WOOD-ANEMONE. 

Thou  gentle  flower, 
That  first  doth  greet  the  heightening  sun, 
Anemone,  thou  modest  one, 
Who  taught  thee  that  the  \"vinter's  course  is  run, 

While  storms  still  lower? 
Thou,  trusting  nature's  word,  doth  come 
Ere  birds  are  mated,  or  the  hum 
Of  bees  returns  the  spotted  picker's  drum. 

The  tingeing  blush 
That  touches  on  thy  petals  fair. 
When  blows  the  south-wind's  amorous  air, 
Is  like  a  maiden's  face.     Thou  dost  not  bear 

The  hot-breathed  rush 
Of  June,  but  on  tliy  slender  stalk 
Soon  diest,  while  thy  leaves  unlock 
Their  fingers,  prayer-like,  drooping  on  the  rock. 

Thy  lessons  fall 
Like  seeds  of  good  upon  my  soul, 
To  teach  me  faith  in  Cod,  to  pole 
My  scattered  thoughts  to  one  more  perfect  whole, 

Pervading  all. 
Sweet  emblem,  full  of  trust,  and  chaste, 
I  love  thy  tinted  bell,  so  graced 
With  springtime's  life  amid  the  winter's  waste. 

Charles  Hall  Perry. 


April  22. 

'•'That  ye  sorrow  not,  even  as  others  which    have    no 
hope." 


Grief,  it  is  truly  said,  is  sacred ;  but  grief  brought  for- 
ward promiscuously,  harped  upon,  condoled  over,  made 
the  staple  of  conversation,  becomes  rapidly  profane. 

Apply  healing  to  other  minds  diseasea,  and  you  will  not 
fail  to  heal  your  own.  The  law  of  impenetrability  obtains 
in  mind  as  well  as  in  matter.  Sorrow  cannot  wholly  fill 
the  heart  that  is  occupied  with  others'  welfare. 

Constant  melancholy,  furthermore,  is  constant  rebellion. 

Gail  Hamilton. 


Sorrow  is  not  selfish,  but  many  persons  are  in  sorrow 
entirely  selfish.  It  makes  them  so  important  in  their  own 
eyes,  that  they  seem  to  have  a  claim  on  all  that  people 
can  do  for  them. 

George  Macdonald. 


April  23. 

A  GUSH  of  bird-song,  a  patter  of  dew, 
A  cloud,  and  a  rainbow's  warning. 

Suddenly  sunshine  and  perfect  blue, — 
An  April  day  in  the  morning. 

Harriet  Prescott  Spodford. 


The  orchards  all  a-flutter  with  pink, 

Robins'  twitter,  and  wild  bees'  humming, 

Break  the  song  with  a  thrill  to  think 

How  sweet  is  life  when  summer  is  coming. 

Harriet  Prescott  Spofford. 


Rare  benevolence,  the  minister  of  God. 

Carlyle. 

If    you    wish    to    preserve    your    secret,   wrap    it   up   in 
frankness. 

Montaii^ne. 


April  24. 

Cicero  was  at  dinner  when  an  ancient  lady  said  she 
was  but  forty.  One  that  sat  by  rounded  him  in  the  ear, 
"She  is  far  more,  —  out  of  the  questicjn."  Cicero  an- 
swered, "  I  must  believe  her,  for  I  have  heard  her  say  so 
any  time  these  ten  years." 

Lord  Bacon. 


I  DO  not  call  a  healthy  young  man,  cheerful  in  his 
mind  and  vigorous  in  his  arms,  —  I  cannot  call  such  a 
man, — poor.  I  cannot  pity  my  kind  as  a  kind,  merely 
because  they  are  men.  This  affected  pity  only  tends  to 
dissatisfy  them  with  their  condition,  and  to  teach  their. 
to  seek  resources  where  no  resources  are  to  be  found,  —  in 
something  else  than  their  own  industry  and  frugality  and 
sobri(;ty. 

Burke. 


April  25. 

REWARD     OF     ENDEAVOR. 

What  hast  thou  for  thy  scattered  seed, 

O  sower  of  the  plahi? 
Where  are  the  many  gathered  sheaves 

Thy  hope  shall  bring  again? 
"The  only  record  of  my  work 

Lies  in  the  buried  grain." 

What  is  the  harvest  of  thy  saints, 

O  God  !  who  dost  abide  ? 
Wliere  grow  the  garlands  of  thy  chiefs, 

In  blood  and  sorrow  dyed? 
What  have  thy  servants  for  their  pains? 

"This  only  —  to  have  tried." 

JiiHa  Ward  Howe. 


Atheism  is  the  suicide  of  the  soul. 


April  26. 

Why  not  take  life  with  cheerful  trust, 

With  faith  in  the  strength  of  weakness? 
The  slenderest  daisy  rears  its  head 
With  courage  and  with  meekness. 
A  sunny  face 
Hath  holy  grace, 
To  woo  the  sun  forever. 

Mary  M.  Doclge. 


A  MAN   too   busy  to  take  care  of  his   health  is  like  a 
mechanic  too  busy  to  take  care  of  his  tools. 


HAPPiN't:ss  is  where  it  is  found,  and  seldom  where  it  is 
sought. 


April  27. 

Poor  heart,  above  thy  field  of  sorrow  sighing 

For  smitten  faith,  and  hope  untimely  slain, 
Leave  thou  the  soil  whereon  thy  dead  are  lying 

To  the  soft  sunlight  and  the  cleansing  rain. 
Love  works  in  silence,  hiding  all  the  traces 

Of  bitter  conflict  on  the  trampled  sod. 
And  time  shall  show  thee  all  life's  battle-places, 

Veiled  by  the  hand  of  God. 

/.  L.  Cosliam. 


To  divert,  at  any  time,  a  troublesome  fancy,  run  to  thy 
books.  They  presently  fix  thee  to  them,  and  drive  the 
other  out  of  thy  thoughts.  They  always  receive  thee  with 
the  same  kindness. 


Thomas  Fuller. 


To  confide  too  much  is  to  put  your  lemon  into  aiiolher 

man's  squeezer. 

Bovce, 


April  28. 

Act   and    speak    to    your    servants    as    you    would  wish 
others  to  do  to  you  if  you  were  a  servant. 

Dionysius  the  Carthusian. 


I  ALWAYS  fancy  I  can  hear  the  wheels  clicking  in  a 
calculator's  brain.  The  power  of  dealing  with  numbers 
is  a  kind  of  "  detached-lever "  arrangement,  which  may 
be  put  into  a  mighty  poor  watch. 

Holmes. 


There  is  a  day  of  sunny  rest 

For  every  dark  and  troubled  night ; 

And  grief  may  bide  an  evening  guest, 
But  joy  shall  come  with  early  light. 

Bryant. 


Ever  with  loss  the  putter-off  contends. 


April  29. 

How  many  are  familiar  with  the  language  of  the  cross, 
with  the  terms  sacrifice,  self-denial,  and  self-crucifixion, 
who  know  nothing  practically  of  what  they  signify  !  The 
cross  is  made  an  ornament ;  it  is  wrought  in  gold  and 
jewels ;  it  hangs  in  pictures  in  elegant  halls,  or  tips  the 
costly  church-spire.  And  yet  how  far  is  all  this  from  true 
evangelical  cross-bearing,  or  the  meek  endurance  of  divine 
chastisement,  the  humble  and  faithful  performance  of  pain- 
ful duty.  Dr.  Kirk. 

We  love  our  dead,  and  hold  their  memories  dear ; 

But  living  love  is  sweeter  than  regret : 
God's  ways  are  just ;  and,  though  they  seem  severe, 

He  can  give  back  with  blessings  greater  yet 
Than  we  have  lost.     He  chastens  for  some  good 
That  in  our  weakness  is  not  understood. 

Barton  Grey. 


April  30. 

O  FAIR  mid-spring,  besung  so  oft  and  oft, 
How  can  I  praise  thy  loveliness  enow? 

The  sun  that  burns  not,  and  thy  breezes  soft 
That  o'er  the  blossoms  of  the  orchard  blow, 
The  thousand  things  that  'neath  the  young  leaves  grow, 

The  hopes  and  chances  of  the  growing  year, 

Winter  forgotten  long,  and  summer  near. 

William  Morris. 


It  is  a  fair,  even-handed,  noble  adjustment  of  things,  that 
while  there  is  infection  in  disease  and  sorrow,  there  is  noth- 
ing in  the  world  so  irresistibly  contagious  as  laughter  and 

good  humor.  Dickens. 


'Tis  impious  in  a  good  man  to  be  sad. 

Edivard   Young. 


May  1. 

Now  must  these  men  be  glad  a  little  while 
That  they  had  lived  to  see  May  once  more  smile. 

Chaucer. 


Then  came  faire  May,  the  fayiest  mayd  on  ground, 

Deckt  all  with  dainties  of  her  season's  pryde, 
And,  throwing  flowres  out  of  her  lap  around, 

Upon  two  brethren's  shoulders  she  did  ride. 
The  twinnes  of  I-eda,  which  on  eyther  side 

Supported  her  like  to  their  soveraine  queene. 
Lord  !  how  all  creatures  laught  when  they  her  spide, 

And  leapt  and  daunct  as  they  had  ravisht  beene  ! 

And  Cupid  selfe  about  her  fluttred  all  in  greene. 

Spi^nser. 


May  2. 

May,  thou  month  of  rosy  beauty, 
Month  when  pleasure  is  a  duty, 
Month  of  bees  and  month  of  flowers. 
Month  of  blossom-laden  bowers, 
Month  of  little  hands  with  daisies, 
Lover's  love,  and  poet's  praises, 
May's  the  month  that's  laughing  now, 
I  no  sooner  write  the  word. 
Than  it  seems  as  though  it  heard. 
And  looks  up,  and  laughs  at  me. 
Like  a  sweet  face  rosily 
Flushing  from  the  papers  white  ; 
Like  a  bride  that  knows  her  power, 
Startled  in  a  summer  bower. 

Leisrh  Hunt. 


May  3. 

THE     VOICE     OF    THE     GRASS. 

Here  I  come,  creeping,  smiling  everywhere ; 
All  round  the  open  door, 
Where  sit  the  aged  poor; 

Here  where  the  children  play, 

In  the  bright  and  merry  May, 

I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere. 

Here  I  come  creeping,  creeping  everywhere  : 
My  humble  song  of  praise 
Most  joyfully  I  raise 

To  Him  at  whose  command 
I  beautify  the  land. 
Creeping,  silently  creeping  everywhere. 

Sarah  Roberts. 


May  4. 

So,  then,  the  year  is  repeating  its  old  story  again.  We 
are  come  once  more,  thank  God  !  to  its  most  charming 
chapter.  The  violets  and  the  Mayflowers  are  its  inscrip- 
tions or  vignettes.  It  always  makes  a  pleasant  impression 
on  us  when  we  open  again  at  these  pages  of  the  book 
of  life.  Goethe. 


This  season  of  the  year  touches  my  spirit  always  with  a 
sense  of  newness,  of  strangeness,  of  resurrection.  It  shoots 
boyhood  again  into  the  blood  of  middle  age.  That  ten- 
der greening  of  the  black  bough  and  the  red  field ;  that 
coming  again  of  the  new-old  flowers ;  that  rebirth  of  lov^e 
in  all  the  family  of  birds,  with  cooings  and  caressings, 
and  building  of  nests  in  wood  and  brake ;  that  strange 
glory  of  sunshine  in  the  air ;  that  stirring  of  life  in  the 
green  mould,  making  even  churchyards  beautiful,  —  seems 
like  the  creation  of  a  new  world. 

Alexander  Smith. 


May  5. 


QUARRELLING. 


If  any  thing  in  the  world  will  make  a  man  feel  badly, 
except  pinching  his  fingers  in  the  crack  of  a  door,  it  is 
a  quarrel.  No  man  fails  to  think  less  of  himself  after 
than  he  did  before :  it  degrades  him  in  the  eyes  of 
others,  and,  what  is  worse,  tends  to  blunt  his  sensibihties, 
and  increases  his  irritability.  The  truth  is,  that  the  more 
peaceably  and  quietly  we  get  on,  the  better  for  our  neigh- 
bors. In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  the  better  course  is,  if 
the  man  cheats  you,  to  quit  dealing  with  him ;  if  he 
slanders  you,  take  care  to  live  down  his  slanders.  Let 
such  persons  alone,  for  there  is  nothing  better  than  this 
way  of  dealing  with  those  who  injure  us. 

Hilton. 


I  THINK  the  pale  blue  clouds  of  May 
Drop  down,  and  turn  to  flowers. 


T.  B.  Aldrich. 


May  6. 

"THIS,    TOO,    SHALL   PASS   AWAY." 

An  Eastern  monarch  commanded  his  minister  to  furnish 
a  motto  that  should  cheer  in  adversity,  and  prevent  excessive 
joy  in  prosperity.  He  gave  the  monarch  for  his  signet: 
"This,  too,  shall  pass  away."  How  greatly  would  such  a 
thought  console  us  in  sorrow,  or  restrain  us  in  joy.  Every 
state  of  feeling  or  suffering,  of  hope  or  despair,  will  pass 
away  in  this  life. 

Jo  Jin  Forster. 

The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  think  religion  to  consist  in 
candor,  kindness,  forbearance,  hoping  for  the  best. 

Bela  B.  Edwanh. 


What  avails  a  life  of  fretting  ? 

J.  G.   Wliittier. 


May  7. 

O  May,  sweet-voiced  one,  going  thus  before, 
For  ever  June  may  pour  her  warm  red  wine 
Of  hfe  and  passion,  —  sweeter  days  are  thine. 

Helen  Hunt. 


Yet,  with  a  heart  that's  ever  kind, 

A  gentle  spirit  gay. 
You've  spring  perennial  in  your  mind, 

And  round  you  make  a  May. 

Thackeray. 


And  'tis  my  faith  that  every  flower 
Enjoys  the  air  it  breathes. 

Wordsworth. 


May  8. 


ARBUTUS. 


I  WANDERED  loncly  where  the  pine-trees  made 
Against  the  bitter  east  their  barricade ; 

And,  guided  by  its  sweet 
Perfume,  I  found,  within  a  narrow  dell, 

Amid  dry  moss  and  dead  leaves  at  my  feet, 
The  trailing  spring  flower,  tinted  like  a  shell. 

And,  bending  o'er  it  not  irreverent, 

I  thought  of  lives  thus  lowly  clogged  and  pent. 

Which  yet  found  room. 
Through  daily  cumberings  of  deep  decay  and  death, 

To  give  to  heaven  the  sweetness  of  their  breath, 
And  to  earth  the  beauty  of  their  bloom. 

John  G.    Whittier. 


May  9. 

A   DAY    OF    SUNSHINE. 

O  GIFT  of  God  !     O  perfect  day : 
Whereon  shall  no  man  work,  but  play; 
Whereon  it  is  enough  for  me, 
Not  to  be  doing,  but  to  be  ! 

Blow,  winds  !  and  waft  through  all  the  rooms 
The  snow-flakes  of  the  cherry-blooms  ! 
Blow,  winds  !  and  bend  within  my  reach 
The  fiery  blossoms  of  the  peach  ! 

O  Life  and  Love  !     O  happy  throng 
Of  thoughts,  whose  only  speech  is  song  ! 
O  heart  of  man  !  canst  thou  not  be 
Blithe  as  the  air  is,  and  a.-i  free  ? 

Longfellow, 


May  lO. 

Lessons  to  be  learned  from  the  humility  and  cheerful- 
ness of  the  grass  :  Its  humility,  in  that  it  seems  created 
only  for  lowest  service,  —  appointed  to  be  trodden  on  and 
fed  upon.  Its  cheerfulness^in  that  it  seems  to  exult  under 
all  kinds  of  violence  and  suffering.  You  roll  it,  and  it  is 
stronger  the  next  day;  you  mow  it,  and  it  multiplies  its 
shoots  as  if  it  were  grateful ;  you  tread  upon  it,  and  it  only 
sends  up  richer  perfume. 

Now,  these  two  characters  —  of  humility,  and  joy  under 

trial  —  are  exactly  those  which  most  definitely  distinguish 

the  Christian  from  the  Pagan  spirit. 

Ruskin. 


In  those  vernal  seasons  of  the  year,  when  the  air  is 
calm  and  pleasant,  it  were  an  injury  and  sullenness 
against  Nature,  not  to  go  out  and  see  her  riches,  and 
partake  of  her  rejoicing  with  heaven  and  earth. 

Milton. 


May  11. 

May  was  called  by  our  Saxon  ancestors  Tri-milki,  be- 
cause in  that  month  they  began  to  milk  their  kine  tliree 
times  in  the  day. 


The  May  festival  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  Druids, 
who  themselves  had  it  from  India. 


Death  is  the  dropping  of  the  flower  that  the  fruit  may 
swell. 

Beecher. 


The  shy  little  Mayflower  weaves  her  nest ; 

But  the  south  wind  sighs  o'er  the  fragrant  loam, 

And  betrays  the  path  to  her  woodland  home. 

S.  II.   Whitman. 


May  12. 

MORAL   COURAGE. 

Sydney  SiMith,  in  his  woik  on  moral  philosophy,  speaks 
in  this  wise  of  what  men  lose  for  want  of  a  little  moral 
courage,  or  independence  of  mind  :  "  A  great  deal  of  talent 
is  lost  in  the  world  for  the  want  of  a  little  courage.  The 
fact  is,  that  to  do  any  thing  in  this  world  worth  doing,  we 
must  not  stand  back  shivering,  and  thinking  of  the  cold 
and  the  danger,  but  jump  in  and  scramble  through  as  well 
as  we  can.  It  will  not  do  to  be  perpetually  calculating 
tasks,  and  adjusting  nice  chances ;  it  did  very  well  before 
the  flood,  where  a  man  could  consult  his  friends  upon  an 
intended  publication  for  an  hundred  and  fifty  years,  and 
then  live  to  see  its  success  afterwards :  but  at  present, 
a  man  waits  and  doubts  and  hesitates,  and  consults  his 
brother  and  his  uncle  and  particular  friends,  till  one  fine 
day  he  finds  that  he  is  sixty  years  of  age  ;  that  he  has 
lost  so  much  time  in  consulting  his  first  cousin  and  par- 
ticular friends,  that  he  has  no  more  time  to  follow  their 
advice." 


May  13. 

Sweet  May  hath  come  to  love  us ; 

Flowers,  trees,  their  blossoms  don ; 
And,  through  the  blue  heavens  above  us, 

The  very  clouds  move  on. 


Heine. 


Ah  !   human  kindness,  human  love,  — 

To  io.^  who  seek  denied, — 

Too  late  we  learn  to  prize  above 

The  whole  round  world  beside. 

Whittier. 


It  is  prodigious  the  quantity  of  good  that  may  be  done 
by  one  man  if  he  will  make  a  business  of  it. 


Franklin. 


May  14. 

Take  thou  no  scorn 

Of  Fiction  born, 

Fair  Fiction's  muse  to  woo  : 

Old  Homer's  theme 

Was  but  a  dream, 

Himself  a  fiction  too. 

Sir  Walter  S'cott. 


The  daffodil  is  our  doorside  queen : 

She  pushes  up  the  sward  already, 

To  spot  with  sunshine  the  early  green. 

Brvaiit. 


The  world  deals  good-naturedly  with  good-nature  J  peo- 
ple ;  and  I  never  knew  a  sulky  misanthropist  who  quarrelled 
with  it,  but  it  was  he,  and  not  it,  that  was  in  the  wrong. 

T/iacl:e7-ay. 


May  15. 

Be  thankful  for  the  gifts 

That  bounteous  Heaven  bestows : 
Enjoy  them  while  they  last, 

Nor  mourn  the  fading  rose. 
The  world  would  weary 

Did  night  not  follow  day, 
And  Spring  herself  would  perish 

If  every  month  were  May. 

Charles  Mackay. 


First  Swell.  —  "I  never  did  like  *  May,'  —  not  nearly  so 
pretty  as  '  Mary.'  Wonder  they  don't  change  the  name 
of  the  month  to  '  Mary.'  " 

Second  Swell.  —  "  Clevaw  ideaw,  bah  Jove  !  Make  awy- 
staws  good  to  June,  you  know  ! " 

Exchans^e. 


May  16. 

TO    THE   DANDELION. 

Dear  common  flower,  that  grow'st  beside  tlie  way, 

Fringing  the  dusty  road  with  harmless  gold. 

First  pledge  of  blithesome  May, 

Thou  teachest  me  to  deem 

More  sacredly  of  every  human  heart, 

Since  each  reflects  in  joy  its  scanty  gleam 

Of  heaven,  and  could  some  wondrous  secret  show, 

Did  we  but  pay  the  love  we  owe. 

And  with  a  child's  undoubting  wisdom  look 

On  all  these  living  pages  of  God's  book. 

Lcnuell. 


The  arbutus  is  now  open  everywhere  in  the  woods 
and  groves.  How  pleasant  it  is  to  meet  the  same  flowers 
year  after  year. 

Rliss  Cooper. 


May  17. 

O  EVIL  day  !  if  I  were  sullen 

While  the  earth  herself  is  adorning 

This  sweet  May  morning, 

And  the  children  are  pulling, 

On  every  side, 

In  a  thousand  valleys  far  and  wide, 

Fresh  flowers ;  while  the  sun  shines  warm, 

And  the  babe  leaps  up  on  his  mother's  arm, 

Wordsworth. 


If  solid  happiness  we  prize. 
Within  our  breast  this  jewel  lies; 
And  they  are  fools  who  roam. 
The  world  has  nothing  to  bestow : 
From  our  own  selves  our  joys  must  flow. 

Anon, 


May  18. 

In  the  month  of  May,  apple-trees  go  a-courting.  Love 
is  evermore  father  of  poetry.  For  an  apple-tree  in  full 
blossom  is  like  a  message  sent  fresh  from  heaven  to  earth, 
of  purity  and  beauty.  It  is  the  high  noon  just  now,  on 
this  eighteenth  day  of  May,  with  the  apple-trees !  In 
the  month  of  May,  the  very  flower-month  of  the  year, 
the  crown  and  glory  of  all  is  the  apple-tree. 

In  my  calendar  hereafter,  I  do  ordain  that  the  name 
of  this  month  be  changed.  Instead  of  May,  let  it  hence- 
forth be  called  "  the  month  of  the  apple-blossom." 

Bcecher 


A  PROPENSITY   to  hope  and  joy  is  real  riches;   one  to 
fear  and  sorrow,  real  poverty. 

Hume. 


May  19. 

It  is  the  crushed  grape  that  gives  out  the  blood-red 
wine.  It  is  the  suffering  soul  that  breathes  the  sweetest 
melodies. 

Gail  Hamilton. 


God's  ways  seem  dark ;  but,  soon  or  late, 
They  touch  the  shining  liills  of  day  : 
The  evil  cannot  brook  delay. 

The  good  can  well  afford  to  wait. 

John  G.   Whittier. 


Not  by  lamentations  and  mournful  chants  ought  we  to 
celebrate  the  funeral  of  a  good  man,  but  by  hymns ;  for, 
in  ceasing  to  be  numbered  with  mortals,  he  enters  upon 
the  heritage  of  a  diviner  life. 

Phitarch. 


May  20. 

I  ONCE  remember  to  have  heard  a  woman  say,  when 
I  was  passing  down  a  lane,  —  a  child  stood  crying  at  the 
door,  and  I  heard  her  calling  out,  —  "Ah!  you  are  crying 
for  nothing :  I  will  give  you  something  to  cry  for." 

It  is  often  so  with  God's  children.  They  get  crying 
for  nothing.  They  have  a  miserable  disposition,  or  a 
turn  of  mind  always  making^ miseries  for  themselves;  and 
thus  they  have  something  to  cry  for.  Their  peace  is 
disturbed,  some  sad  trouble  comes,  God  hides  his  face, 
and  then  they  lose  their  peace.  But  keep  on  singing, 
even  when  the  sun  does  not  keep  on  shining;  keep  a 
song  for  all  weathers ;  get  a  joy  that  will  stand  clouds 
and  storms ;  and  then,  wlien  you  know  how  always  to 
rejoice,  you  shall  have  this  peace. 

Ret'.   C.  II.  Sptirgecn. 


May  21. 

Better  and  sweeter  than-  health  or  friends  or  money 
or  fame  or  ease  or  prosperity  is  the  adorable  will  of 
our  God.  It  gilds  the  darkest  hours  with  a  divine  halo, 
and  sheds  brightest  sunshine  on  the  gloomiest  paths. 
He  always  reigns  who  has  made  it  his  kingdom,  and 
nothing  can  go  amiss  to  him.  The  first  step  you  must 
take  in  order  to  enter  into  the  life  hid  with  Christ  in 
God,  is  that  of  entire  consecration.  I  cannot  have  you 
look  at  it  as  a  hard  and  stern  demand.  You  must  do  it 
gladly,  thankfully,  enthusiastically.  You  must  go  in  on 
what  I  call  the  privilege  side  of  consecration ;  and  I  can 
assure  you,  from  a  blessed  experience,  that  you  will  find 
it  the  happiest  place  you  have  ever  entered  yet. 

"  //.  IV.  S." 


If  we  had  but  more  faith,  we  should  have  less  care. 

/\!e7>.  M.  Ilciiry. 


May  22. 

A   VIOLET. 

God  does  not  send  us  strange  flowers  every  year. 
When  the  spring  winds  blow  o'er  the  pleasant  places, 
The  same  dear  things  lift  up  the  same  fair  faces. 

The  violet  is  here. 

So  after  the  death -winter^  it  must  be, 

God  will  not  put  strange  signs  in  the  heavenly  places : 

The  old  love  shall  look  out  from  the  old  faces. 

Veilchen  !  I  shall  have  thee  ! 

Mrs.  A.  D.   T.   Whitney. 


If   we  stand    boggling  at  imaginary  evils,  let  us  never 

blame  a  horse  for  starting  at  a  shadow. 

U  Estra7irre. 


When  you  come  into  the  house,  do  you  bring  sunsliine 
with  you? 


Gail  IlaniiltoH. 


May  23. 

"  I  KXEW  her  in  her  brightness,  a  creature  full  of  glee 
As  the  dancing  waves  that  sparkle    on   the   placid   sum- 
mer sea : 
To  her  the  world  was  sunshine,  and  peace  was   on    her 

breast ; 
For  '  Contentment '  was  her  motto,  and  a  '  Heartsease ' 
was  her  crest. 

"  Yet  deem  not  for  a  moment  that  her  life  was  free  from 

care  : 
She  shared  the  storms  and    sorrows    that    others  sigh  to 

bear ; 
But   she   met   earth's   tempests   meekly  in   the   hope   of 

heaven's  rest ; 
She  gave  not  up  her  motto,  nor  cast  away  her  crest. 

"Alas  !    the   many   frowning   brows   and   eyes   that   speak 

of  woe, 
And   hearts   that   turn  reprovingly  from  ever)'  chastening 

blow ; 
But   our   paths   might   all   be   smoother,  and   our   hearts 

would  all  be  blest, 
^Yith  '  Contentment '  for  our  motto  and  a  *  Heartsease ' 

for  our  crest." 


May  24. 

Indeed,  I  almost  doubt  whether  the  head  of  a  family 
does  not  do  more  mischief  if  he  is  unsympathetic  than 
even  if  he  were  unjust. 

Arthur  Helps, 


Be  at  least  as  polite  to  father,  mother,  child,  as  to 
others ;  for  they  are  more  important  to  you  than  any 
other. 

Rochefoucauld. 


His  text  was,  "What  dost  thou  hear,  Elijah?"  He 
divided  it  into  two  heads.  "First,  my  brethren,"  said 
he,  "  let  us  consider  what  Elijah  did  hear ;  and,  secondly, 
what  he  didn't  hear." 


May  25. 

'TwAS  ever  thus  from  childhood's  hour, 

My  fondest  hopes  would  not  decay : 
I  never  loved  a  tree  or  flower 

Which  was  the  first  to  fade  away  ! 
I  never  nursed  a  dear  gazelle, 

But  I  was  given  a  paroquet : 
How  I  did  nurse  him  if  unwell ! 

He's  imbecile,  but  lingers  yet. 
He's  green,  with  an  enchanting  tuft ; 

He  melts  me  with  his  small  black  eye ; 
He'd  look  inimitable  stuffed, 

And  knows  it,  —  but  he  will  not  die. 
And  then  I  bought  a  dog,  —  a  queen  ! 

Ah,  Tiny  !  dear  departing  pug  ! 
She  lives,  but  she  is  past  sixteen, 

And  scarce  can  crawl  across  the  rug. 
I  loved  her  beautiful  and  kind, 

Delighted  in  her  pert  bow-wow; 
But  now  she  snaps  if  you  don't  mind  : 

'Twere  lunacy  to  love  her  now. 

C.  S.   Calverly. 


May  26. 

We  prate  of  life's  illusive  dyes, 

And  yet  fond  hope  misleads  us  : 
We  all  believe  we  near  the  prize, 

Till  some  fresh  dupe  succeeds  us. 
And  yet,  though  life's  a  riddle,  though 

No  clerk  has  yet  explained  it, 
I  still  can  hope ;  for  well  I  know 

That  Love  has  thus  ordained  it. 

Frederick  Locker. 


Dost  thou  love  life  ?     Then,  do  not  squander  time  ;  for 
that  is  the  stuff  life  is  made  of. 

Fraitklht. 


Our  greatest  glory  is  not  in  never  falling,  but  in  rising 
every  time  we  fall. 

Coitfticius. 


May  27. 

THE    LUMINOUS   TRUTH. 

"Who  will  give  me  his  heart,"  said  God, 
"  My  love  he  shall  find." 
With  that  speech  a  resplendent  sun  fell  into  my  mind. 

Oriental  Poetry. 


God  asks  not,  "  To  what  sect  did  he  belong  ?  " 
But,  "  Did  he  do  the  right,  or  love  the  wrong  ? " 

Oriental  Poetry. 


Very  rarely  indeed  do  we  receive  any  good  gift  out  of 
the  spiritual  treasures  of  our  God  in  ripe  completeness  at 
the  first.  It  would  be  as  difficult  to  put  a  full-grown  grace 
into  the  soul  as  it  is  to  transplant  a  full-grown  tree. 

Sarah  F.  Smiley. 


May  28. 

You  see  no  light  beyond  the  stars, 
No  hope  of  lasting  joys  to  come? 

I  feel,  thank  God  !  no  narrow  bars 
Between  me  and  my  final  home. 

Hence  with  your  cold,  sepulchral  bans,  — 
The  vassal  doubts  unfaith  has  given  ! 

My  childhood's  heart  within  the  man's 
Still  whispers  to  me,  "  Trust  in  Heaven  ! " 

Janies   T.  Fields. 


If  you  wish  to  get  on,  you  must  do  as  you  would  to 
get  in  through  a  crowd  to  a  gate  all  are  equally  anxious 
to  reach.  Hold  your  ground,  and  push  hard.  To  stand 
still  is  to  give  up  your  hope. 

Lady  Alary  Montagu. 


May  29. 


ON    ATHEISM. 


"I  BAD  rather,"  says  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  "believe  all  the 
fables  in  the  Legend,  the  Talmud,  and  the  Koran,  than 
that  this  universal  frame  is  without  a  mind.  God  never 
wrought  miracles  to  convince  atheists,  because  his  ordi- 
nary works  are  sufficient  to  convince  them.  It  is  true  that 
a  little  philosophy  inclineth  men's  minds  to  atheism,  but 
depth  in  philosophy  bringeth  them  back  to  religion :  for, 
while  the  mind  of  man  looketh  upon  second  causes  scat- 
tered, it  may  sometimes  rest  on  them,  and  go  no  farther ; 
but,  when  it  beholdeth  the  chain  of  them  confederate  and 
linked  together,  it  must  needs  fly  to  Providence  and  Deity." 


To  do  so  no  more  is  the  truest  repentance. 

Luther. 


May  30. 

©fcoration  ©ag. 

Take  from  your  flag  its  fold  of  gloom, 
And  let  it  float  undimmed  above, 

Till  over  all  our  vales  shall  bloom 
The  sacred  colors  that  we  love. 

Though  by  the  places  where  they  fell, 
The  places  that  are  sacred  ground, 

Death,  like  a  sullen  sentinel, 
Paces  his  everlasting  round. 

Not  there,  but  risen,  redeemed,  they  go 
Where  all  the  paths  are  sweet  with  flowers 

They  fought  to  give  us  peace ;  and,  lo ! 
They  gained  a  better  peace  than  ours. 

Phcebe  Cary. 


May  31. 

I  HAVE  read  in  old  tales  of  the  buried  past, 
Of  two  armies  which  met  on  the  battle-plain, 

Roman  and  Cyrabric,  in  numbers  vast. 

How  they  fought  till  the  field  was  heaped  with  slain, 

And  how  through  all  day  the  crimson  tide 

Of  battle  favored  the  Cymbric  side. 

Though  their  dead  bestrewed  the  plain, 

Till  at  length,  from  out  of  the  clouded  skies, 

A  sunbeam  darted  across  the  world, 
Blinding  the  Cymbrian  warriors'  eyes ; 

And  backward  their  conquering  hosts  were  hurled. 
And  thus  in  the  record  of  years  is  told 
How  a  sunbeam,  back  in  the  days  of  old. 

Decided  the  fate  of  the  world. 

N.   G.  Shepherd. 


June  1. 

Ah,  June  !  ray  lovely  lass, 

Sweetheart,  dost  thou  not  see 
I  stay  to  watch  thee  pass? 

What  hast  thou  brought  to  me? 

Thy  mystic  ministries 

Of  glorious  far  skies, 
Thy  wild-rose  sermons,  sweet, 
Like  dreams  profound  and  fleet. 

Thy  woodland  harmony, 

Thou  givest  me. 

The  vision  that  can  see, 

The  loving  will  to  learn. 
How  fair  thy  skies  may  be, 
What  in  thy  roses  burn, 
Thy  secret  harmonies,  — 
Ah,  give  me  these  ! 

Ellen  Mackay  Hutchitison. 


June  2. 

They  come  !  the  merry  summer  months  of  beauty,  song, 
and  flowers  : 

Tliey  come  !  the  gladsome  months  that  bring  thick  leafi- 
ness  to  bowers. 

Up,  up,  my  heart !  and  walk  abroad ;  fling  cark  and  care 
aside ; 

Seek  silent  hills,  or  rest  thyself  where  peaceful  waters  glide ; 

Or,  underneath  the  shadow  vast  of  patriarchal  tree, 

Scan  through  its  leaves  the  cloudless  sky  in  rapt  tranquil- 
lity. 

William  Motherwell. 


Cheerfulness  is  the  daughter  of  employment ;  and  I 
have  known  a  man  to  come  home  in  high  spirits  from  a 
funeral,  merely  because  he  had  the  management  of  it. 

Bishop  Home. 


June  3. 

Perhaps  the  most  miserable  people  in  the  world  are 
tlie  very  careful  ones.  You  that  are  so  anxious  about 
what  shall  happen  on  the  morrow,  that  you  cannot  enjoy 
the  pleasures  of  to-day ;  you  who  have  such  a  peculiar 
cast  of  mind  that  you  suspect  every  star  to  be  a  comet, 
and  imagine  that  there  must  be  a  volcano  in  every  grassy 
mead ;  you  that  are  more  attracted  by  the  spots  in  the  sun 
than  by  the  sun  himself,  and  more  amazed  by  one  sear 
leaf  upon  the  tree  than  by  all  the  verdure  of  the  woods; 
you  that  make  more  of  your  troubles  than  you  do  of  your 
joys,  —  I  say,  I  think  you  belong  to  the  most  miserable 
of  men. 

RlIi.  C.  H.  Spurgeon. 

Sorrows  will  not  last  forever, 
Brighter  times  will  come  agam : 

Joy  our  every  grief  succeeding, 
As  the  sunshine  after  rain. 

Anon. 


June  4. 

"Evil  itself  has  its  bright,  or  at  any  rate,  its  redeeming  side, 

piobably  is  but  the  fugitive  requisite   of  some   everlasting 

good,  and  assuredly  in  the  mean  time,  and  in  a  thousand 

obvious   instances,    is   the    admonisher,    the   producer,    the 

increaser,  nay,  the  very  adorner  and  splendid  investitor,  of 

good ;  it  is  the  pain  that  prevents  a  worse,  the  storm  that 

diffuses  health,  the  plague  that  sweetens  sleep,  the  discord 

that  enriches  harmonies,  the  calamity  that  tests  affections, 

the  victory  and  the  crown  of  patience,  the  enraptures   of 

the  embraces  of  joy. 

Leizh  Hunt, 


The  morning-glory's  blossoming 

Will  soon  be  coming  round  : 

We  see  their  rows  of  heart-shaped  leaves 

Upspringing  from  the  ground. 

]\[rs.  Lowell 


June  5. 

MISCHIEF-MAKERS. 

Oh  !  could  there  in  this  world  be  found 
Some  little  spot  of  happy  ground, 

Without  the  village  tattling, 
How  doubly  blest  that  spot  would  be, 
Where  all  might  dwell  in  liberty, 
Free  from  the  bitter  misery 

Of  gossips'  endless  prattling  ! 

Oh,  that  the  mischief-making  crew 
Were  all  reduced  to  one  or  two, 
And  they  were  painted  red  or  blue. 
That  every  one  might  know  them  ! 


Holmes. 


The  folks  that  on  the  first  of  May 

Wore  winter-coats  and  hose, 

Began  to  say,  the  first  of  June, 

"  Good  Lord  !  how  hot  it  grows  !  " 

Holmes, 


June  6. 

Welcome,  Disappointment !  Thy  hand  is  cold  and  hard, 
but  it  is  the  hand  of  a  friend.  Thy  voice  is  stern  and  harsh, 
but  it  is  the  voice  of  a  friend.  Oh,  there  is  something  sub- 
lime in  calm  endurance,  something  sublime  in  the  resolute, 
fixed  purpose  of  suffering  without  complaining,  which  makes 
disippointment  oftentimes  better  than  success  ! 

Longfellow. 


The  deed  divine 
Is  written  in  characters  of  gold, 
That  never  shall  grow  old. 
But  through  all  ages 

Burn  and  shine 

With  soft  effulgence. 

Longfellow. 


June  7. 

There  is  no  denying,  that,  if  spring  is  "  some,"  June  is 
summer. 

Artemns   IVa^-d. 


Giver  of  glowing  light, 
Though  but  a  god  of  other  days, 
The  kings  and  sages 
Of  wiser  ages 
Still  live  and  gladden  in  thy  genial  rays. 

Father  of  rosy  day. 
No  more  thy  clouds  of  incense  rise ; 
But  waking  flowers 
At  morning  hours 
Give  out  their  sweets  to  meet  thee  in  the  skies. 

Thomas  Hood. 


June  8. 

Lying  among  the  daisies, 

Under  the  fair  blue  skies, 
I  find  in  the  life  about  me 

A  minute  paradise. 
I  know  not  the  tender  grasses 

By  the  names  they  have  in  books, 
But  I  find  them  sweet  companions 

When  away  in  shady  nooks 
I  hide  from  the  world  about  me, 

And  the  wrangle  of  earthly  seers, 
To  dwell  on  the  countless  lessons 

Which  lie  in  their  tender  spears. 
Each  leaf  a  microcosm 

Singing  of  God's  dear  love. 
Each  flower  a  tiny  picture 

Of  the  stars  that  burn  above ; 
Each  blade  in  its  graceful  curving 

One  of  God's  wondrous  tomes, 
And  in  the  green  about  me 

A  multitude  of  homes. 

D.   Chauncev  Brewer, 


June  9. 

CONTENT. 

Art  thou  poor,  yet  hast  thou  golden  slumbers? 

O  sweet  content ! 
Art  thou  rich,  yet  is  thy  mind  perplexed? 

O  punishment ! 
Dost  laugh  to  see  how  fools  are  vexed 
To  add  to  golden  numbers  golden  numbers? 
O  sweet  content !  O  sweet,  O  sweet  content ! 
Work  apace,  apace,  apace,  apace  ; 
Honest  labor  bears  a  lovely  face. 
He  that  patiently  want's  burden  bears. 
No  burden  bears,  but  is  a  king,  a  king: 
O  sweet  content !  O  sweet,  O  sweet  content  ! 

Thomas  Dckker. 


But  we  will  take 
Our  toils  upon  us  nobly  !     Strength  is  born 
In  the  deep  silence  of  long-suffering  hearts ; 
Not  amidst  joy  ! 

Mrs.  Ilcmans. 


June  lO. 

Light  of  light,  enlighten  me, 
Now  anew  the  day  is  dawning ; 

Sun  of  grace,  the  shadows  flee. 

Brighten  thou  my  sabbath  morning ; 

With  thy  joyous  sunshine  blest, 

Happy  is  my  day  of  rest. 

B.  Schmolck. 


Such  a  beautiful  content. 
Such  a  charmed  time,  is  sent 
For  all  souls  to  say  that  June 
Is  a  glimpse  of  God's  high  noon. 

Julia   W.  Howe. 


June  !  June  !  June ! 

Low  croon 
The  brown  bees  in  the  clover; 
Sweet !  sweet !  sweet ! 

Repeat 

The  robins,  nested  over. 

Avis  Grey. 


June  11. 

A  GARDEN  SO  well  watered  before  morn 
Is  hotly  up,  that  not  the  swart  sun's  blaze 
Down-beating  with  unmitigated  rays, 
Nor  arid  winds  from  scorching  places  borne, 
Shall  quite  prevail  to  make  it  bare  and  shorn 
Of  its  green  beauty,  —  shall  not  quite  prevail 
That  all  its  morning  freshness  shall  exhale 
Till  evening  and  the  evening  dews  return,  — 
A  blessing  such  as  this  our  hearts  might  reap. 
The  freshness  of  the  garden  they  might  share. 
Through  the  long  day  a  heavenly  freshness  keep. 
If,  knowing  how  the  day  and  the  day's  glare 
Must  beat  upon  them,  we  would  largely  steep 
And  water  them  betimes  with  dews  of  prayer. 

Trench. 


June  12. 

If  gilt  were  only  gold,  or  sugar-candy  common  sense, 
what  a  fine  thing  our  society  would  be  !  Had  we  recently 
arrived  from  the  moon,  we  might,  upon  hearing  that  we 
were  to  meet  the  "  best  society,"  have  fancied  that  we  were 
about  to  enjoy  an  opportunity  not  to  be  overvalued ;  but, 
unfortunately,  we  were  not  so  freshly  arrived. 

George  W.  Curtis. 


To  have  the  tongue  cut  out,  and  to  be  seated,  deaf 
and  dumb,  in  a  corner,  were  preferable  to  his  condition 
who  cannot  govern  his  tongue. 


Sadi. 


Alas  for  heedless  hearts  and  blinded  sense  ! 

With  what  faint  welcome  and  what  meagre  fare, 
What  mean  subjections  and  small  recompense, 

We  entertain  our  angels  unaware  ! 

Elizabeth  A.  Allen. 


June   13. 

«  Why,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Squeers,  "  I'm  pretty  well ;  so's  the 
family,  and  so's  the  boys,  except  for  a  sort  of  rash  as  is 
a-running  through  the  school,  and  rather  puts  'em  off  their 
feed.  But  it's  a  ill  wind  as  blows  no  good  to  nobody : 
that's  what  I  always  say  when  them  lads  has  a  wisitation. 
The  world  is  chock-full  of  wisitations.  A  wisitation,  sir, 
is  the  lot  of  mortality." 


Sometimes  I  think  it's  pretty  dangerous  living  anywheres. 

Harper's  Drawer. 


Then  said  his  lordship,  "Well,  God  mend  all !  "  —  "  Nay, 
Donald,  we  must  help  him  to  mend  it,"  said  the  other. 

Quoted  by  Carlyle. 


June   14. 

That  earth's  no  paradise 

We  know  as  well  as  you. 

What  then  ?  you  dark,  dull  soul ! 

Suppose  in  the  deep  blue  sky 

There  never  was  seen  a  star; 

Suppose  the  bounteous  earth 

No  more  brought  forth  a  flower, 

And  trees  were  barren  sticks, 

Like  you,  my  worthy  friend  ! 

Go  away,  grumbler  !  go  ! 

And,  ere  you  talk  again 

Of  the  utter  misery 

And  darkness  of  the  world, 

Be  grateful  for  the  flowers; 

And  if  your  purblind  eyes. 

My  most  respectable  friend, 

Can  dare  to  look  so  high. 

Be  thankful  for  the  stars. 

Charles  Mackay. 


June   15. 

Over  and  over  again, 
No  matter  which  way  I  turn, 
I  ahvays  find  in  the  book  of  hfe 

Some  lesson  I  have  to  learn. 
I  must  take  my  turn  at  the  mill ; 

I  must  grind  out  the  golden  grain ; 
I  must  work  at  my  task  with  a  resolute  will, 
Over  and  over  again. 

Over  and  over  again 
The  brook  through  the  meadow  flows, 
And  over  and  over  again 

The  ponderous  mill-wheel  goes. 
Once  doing  will  not  suffice, 

Though  doing  be  not  in  vain  ; 
And  a  blessing  failing  us  once  or  twice 
May  come  if  we  try  again. 


June  16. 

With  brook  and  bird  and  breeze  in  tune, 
The  beautiful,  bright  earth  of  June 
Moves  to  the  fulness  of  her  noon, 
While  serving  sunbeams  round  her  fling 
The  purple  violets  as  they  fleet. 

Harriet  P.  Spofford. 


We  often  do  more  good  by  our  sympathy  than  by  our 
labors. 

Canon  Farrar. 


If  we  cannot  live  so  as  to  be  happy,  let  us  at  least  live 
so  as  to  deserve  happiness. 

Fichte. 


June   17. 


LILAC. 

I  CANNOT  tell  why  lilac-flowers 

Should  bring  me  such  strange  dreams  : 

Within  their  scented  purple  buds 
A  wondrous  witchcraft  gleams. 

It  pictures  languid  Persian  girls, 
Star-Eyes  and  Rose-in-Bloom,  — 

The  jewel-clusters  gathering 
In  Orient-garden  gloom. 

Then  in  a  still  New-England  lane, 

Beneath  the  starlight  wan, 
My  errant  fancy  stays  to  kiss 

A  dove-eyed  Puritan. 

All,  Lilac  !  in  your  pretty  art 

You  give  me  of  the  best,  — 
The  passion  of  the  Orient, 

The  sweetness  of  the  West ! 

Ellen  Miukay  Hutchinson. 


June   18. 

Ah  !  why  not  oftener  on  the  living  shed 

The  fragrance  lavished  on  the  unheeding  dead? 

Who  needs  not  ministries  of  strength  and  cheer? 


In  every  sphere  of  faithful  service  done, 
Thanks,  and  not  pence  alone,  are  fairly  won  : 
In  generous  courtesy  is  found  an  oil 
To  smooth  the  wheels  and  hands  of  daily  toil. 

Out  of  the  heart's  abundance  let  some  cheer 
Be  spoken  while  your  friend  hath  ears  to  hear : 
Deck,  if  you  will,  with  flowers  his  place  of  rest, 
But  fix  the  sweetest  on  his  living  breast. 

Rev.  O.  E.  Dazzett 


June  19. 

And  oh,  the  buttercups  !  that  field 
O'  the  cloth  of  gold,  where  pennons  swam, 
Where  France  set  up  his  lilied  shield, 
His  oriflamme, 

And  Henry's  lion-standard  rolled  : 
What  was  it  to*ttheir  matchless  sheen, 
Their  million  million  drops  of  gold 
Among  the  green  ! 

yea?t  Ingelow. 


Leaves  are  light  and  useless  and  idle  and  wavering 
and  changeable ;  they  even  dance ;  yet  God  in  his  wis- 
dom has  made  them  part  of  the  oak.  In  so  doing  he 
has  given  us  a  lesson  not  to  deny  the  stout-heartedness 
within  because  we  see  the  lightsomeness  without. 

Hare. 


June  20. 


SUMMER    HYMN. 


The  year  draws  near  its  golden-hearted  prime, 
Fulfilled  of  grandeur  rounded  into  grace  : 

We  seem  to  hear  sweet  notes  of  joyance  chime 
From  elfin  bells  through  many  a  greenwood  place. 

The  sovereign  summer,  robed^'knd  garlanded, 

Looks,  steeped  in  verdure,  up  the  enchanted  skies ; 

A  crown,  sun-woven,  round  her  royal  head. 
And  love's  warm  languor  in  her  dreamy  eyes. 

We  quaff  our  fill  of  beauty,  peace,  delight ; 

But  mid  the  entrancing  scene  a  still  voice  saith, 
"  If  earth,  heaven's  shadow,  shows  a  face  so  bright, 

What  of  God's  summer  past  the  straits  of  death? 

Pattl  Hamilton  Hayne. 


June  21. 

FOR    THE     LONGEST     DAY. 

Summer  ebbs :  each  day  that  follows 

Is  a  reflux  from  on  high, 
Tending  to  the  darksome  hollows 

Where  the  frosts  of  winter  lie. 

Wordsworth. 


What  !  shall  we  be  put  into  a  beautiful  garden,  and 
turn  up  our  noses  at  it,  and  call  it  a  "vale  of  tears,"  and 
all  sorts  of  bad  names  (helping  thereby  to  make  it  so), 
and  yet  confidently  reckon  that  Nature  will  never  shut  it 
up  and  have  done  with  it,  or  set  about  forming  a  better 
stock  of  inhabitants? 

Leigh  Hunt. 


The  middle-aged  person  is  liable  to  run  to  waist. 


June  22. 

Of  what  a  hideous  progeny  is  debt  the  father  !     What 

lies,  what  meanness,  what  invasions  on  self-respect,  what 

cares,  what  double-dealing!     How  in   due   season  it  will 

carve  the  frank,  open  face  into  wrinkles  !  how,  like  a  knife, 

it  will  stab  the  honest  heart ! 

Dojiglas  Jerrold. 


The  stern  behests  of  duty, 

The  doom-books  open  thrown, 

The  heaven  ye  seek,  the  hell  ye  fear. 

Are  with  yourselves  alone. 

y.  G.  Whittier. 


In  these  sweet  June  days 

The  teacher  and  the  scholar  trust 

Their  parting  feet  to  separate  ways. 

J    G.    WhUlUr. 


June  23. 

Oh,  happy  he  who  is  in  love  with  beaaty!  —  to  whom 
flowers  are  a  heavenly  language ;  day  and  night  and  weeks 
and  months  and  years  and  centuries  a  rhythmic  song; 
music  a  revelation  of  the  infinite  and  the  divine ;  seas 
and  skies  and  mountains  and  plains  voiceful  echoes  of 
the  everlasting  Word,  and  all  life  the  expression  of  the 
everlasting  love. 

Oh,  happy  he  who  can  rise  out  of  his  work,  and  from 
this  heavenly  realm  of  culture  look  down  upon  it,  and 
recognize  the  fact,  that  it  is  only  the  minister  to  a  hfe  as 
far  above  it  as  the  heavens  are  above  the  earth  ! 

y.  G.  Holland. 


Good  and  bad  men  are  each  less  so  than  they  seem. 

Col er  id  ire. 


June  24. 

I  CANNOT  but  look  on  human  creeds  with  feelings 
approaching  contempt.  When  I  bring  them  into  contrast 
with  the  New  Testament,  into  what  insignificance  do  they 
sink !  What  are  they  ?  Skeletons,  freezing  abstractions, 
metaphysical  expressions  of  unintelligible  dogmas.  Creeds 
are  to  the  Scriptures  what  rush-lights  are  to  the  sun. 

William  E.  Channing. 


The  robin  sings,  as  of  old,  from  the  limb  ! 

The  cat-bird  croons  in  the  lilac-bush  ! 
The  rich  milk-tinging  buttercup 
Its  tiny  polished  urn  holds  up, 

Filled  with  ripe  summer  to  the  edge, 

The  sun  in  his  own  wine  to  pledge. 

Lowell. 


June   25. 

Each 
Must  do  his  own  believing.     As  for  me, 
My  creed  is  short  as  any  man's  may  be. 
'Tis  written  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
And  in  the  Pater  Noster.     I  account 
The  words,  "Our  Father"   (had  we  lost  the  rest 
Of  that  sweet  prayer,  the  briefest  ind  the  best 
In  all  the  liturgies),  of  higher  worth 
To  ailing  souls  than  all  the  creeds  on  earth. 


Why  should  we  look  one  common  faith  to  find, 
When  one  in  every  score  is  color-blind? 
If  here  on  earth  they  know  not  red  from  green. 
Will  they  see  better  into  things  unseen? 

Holmes. 


June  26. 

THE    BOBOLINKS. 

When  Nature  had  made  all  her  birds, 

And  had  no  cares  to  think  on, 
She  gave  a  rippling  laugh  —  and  out 

There  flew  a  Bobolinkon. 

What  cadences  of  bubbling  mirth 

Too  quick  for  bar  or  rhythm  ! 
What  ecstasies,  too  full  to  keep 

Coherent  measure  with  them  ! 

Hope  springs  with  you  :  I  dread  no  more 

Despondency  and  dulness. 
For  Good  Supreme  can  never  fail 

That  gives  such  perfect  fulness. 

C.  P.  Cranch. 


June  27. 

Why  should  I  hug  Hfe's  ills  with  cold  reserve, 
To  curse  myself  and  all  who  love  me  ?     Nay  ! 

A  thousand  times  more  good  than  I  deserve 
God  gives  me  every  day. 

And  in  each  one  of  these  rebellious  tears, 

Kept  bravely  back,  he  makes  a  rainbow  shine  : 

Grateful  I  take  his  slightest  gift ;  no  fears 
Nor  any  doubts  are  mine. 

Then,  vex  me  not  with  chiding.     Let  me  be. 

I  must  be  glad  and  grateful  to  the  end. 
I  grudge  you  not  your  cold  and  darkness,  —  me 

The  powers  of  light  befriend. 

Ce//a   Thaxter. 


Some  days  must  be  dark  and  dreary. 

Longfellow. 


June  28. 

Sun  of  my  soul,  thou  Saviour  dear, 
It  is  not  night  if  thou  be  near. 
Oh,  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise, 
To  hide  thee  from  thy  servant's  eyes  ! 

KebU. 


I,  TOO,  could  question,  if  I  would. 
Of  all  things  I  have  learned  to  love. 

And  fain  would  answer,  if  I  could. 
For  e^th  below  and  heaven  above. 

But  not  by  questionings  I  grow. 

Nor  halt  and  turn  to  mend  my  gait : 

I  live  on  Yes,  and  not  on  No ; 
I  trust  and  love,  I  work  and  wait. 

Rev.  O.  E.  Dazz^tt. 


June  29. 

THE    SWEET    JUNE    TIME. 

The  daisies  and  the  buttercups 

Now  merrily  are  growing; 

And  everywhere,  for  June's  sweet  sake, 

Are  crimson  roses  blowing. 

The  sunbeams  o'er  the  meadows  lie, 

And  breezes  light  are  straying; 

And  oh  !  'l-is  time  the  schools  were  done, 

And  children  out  a-playing. 

"  Vacation  is  the  time  for  fun  ! " 
All  girls  and  boys  are  saying. 
When  s'^hools  and  books  grow  wearisome, 
And  hearts  are  ripe  for  playing. 
So,  little  folks,  come  one  and  all. 
And  —  tumble  out  together, 
Amid  the  sunbeam's  golden  bright, 
All  in  the  sweet  June  weather. 

Afary  D.  Br  hie. 


June  30. 

Be  merry  with  sorrow,  wise  men  have  said ; 
Which  saying,  being  wisely  weighed, 
It  seems  a  lesson  truly  laid 
For  those  whom  sorrows  still  invade  : 
Be  merry,  friends  ! 

Make  ye  not  two  sorrows  of  one ; 
For  of  one  grief  grafted  alone, 
To  graft  a  sorrow  thereupon, 
A  sourer  crab  we  can  graft  none : 
Be  merry,  friends  ! 

Man  hardly  hath  a  richer  thing 
Than  honest  mirth,  the  which  well-spring 
Watereth  the  roots  of  rejoicing. 
Feeding  the  flowers  of  flourishing : 
Be  merry,  friends  ! 

John  Hey  wood. 


July  1. 

Then  came  hot  July,  boyling  like  to  fire, 
That  all  his  garments  he  had  cast  away. 

Spenser. 


To   see   the   hand   of  God  in  the  present,  and  to  trust 
the  future  in  the  hand  of  God,  is  the  secret  of  peace. 


Sorrow  seems   sent   for  our  instruction,   as  we   darken 
the  cages  of  birds  when  we  would  teach  them  to  sing. 

Richter, 


Flowers   are  the  sweetest  things  that  God  ever  made 
and  forgot  to  put  a  soul  into. 

Beecher. 


July  2. 

Fat  men,  infatuate,  fan  the  stagnant  air, 
In  rash  essay  to  cool  their  inward  glowing; 

While  with  each  stroke,  in  dolorous  despair, 
They  feel  the  fever  growing  ! 

The  lean  and  lathy  find  a  fate  as  hard ; 

For,  all-a-dry,  they  bum  like  any  tinder 
Beneath  the  solar  blaze,  till  withered,  charred, 

And  crisped  away  to  cinder  ! 

"  'Tis  dreadful,  dreadful  hot ! "  exclaims  each  one 
Unto  his  sweating,  sweltering,  roasting  neighbor. 

Then  mops  his  brow,  and  sighs,  as  he  had  done 
A  quite  herculean  labor ! 

y.  G.  Saxe, 


July  3. 

Let  us  recognize  the  beauty  and  power  of  true  enthu- 
siasm,  and    guard   against   checking   or   chilling   a   single 

earnest  sentiment. 

//.   T.   Tuc/cerman. 


Independence  and  self-respect  are   essential  to  happi- 
ness, and  these  are  never  to  be  attained  together  without 

work. 

y.  G.  Holland. 


The  loafer  lies  about  the  world  "  owing  him  a  living." 
The  world  owes  him  nothing  but  a  very  rough  coffin, 
and  a  retired  and  otherwise  useless  place  to  put  it  in. 

y.  G.  Holland. 


July  4. 

When  Freedom  from  her  mountain  height 

Unfurled  her  standard  to  the  air, 
She  tore  the  azure  robe  of  night, 

And  set  the  stars  of  glory  there. 

Forever  float  that  standard  sheet,  — 

Where  breathes  the  foe  but  falls  before  us?- 

With  freedom's  soil  beneath  our  feet, 
And  freedom's  banner  waving  o'er  us. 

Halleck. 


Let  our  object  be  our  country,  our  whole  country,  and 
nothing  but  our  country. 


D.  Webster, 


Squeak  the  fife  and  beat  the  drum. 

Independence  Day  has  come. 

Royal  Tyler. 


July  5. 

"  I'd  sooner  ha'  brewin'-day  and  washin'-day  together," 
says  Mrs.  Poyser,  in  Adam  Bede,  "  than  one  of  these 
pleasurin'  days.  There's  no  work  so  tirin'  as  danghn' 
about,  an'  starin',  and  not  rightly  knowin'  what  you're 
goin'  to  do  next :  and  keepin'  your  face  i'  smilin'  order, 
hke  a  grocer  o'  market-day,  for  fear  people  shouldna 
think  you  civil  enough.  An'  you've  nothin'  to  show  for't 
when  it's  done,  if  it  isn't  a  yallow  face  wi'  eatin'  things 
as  disagree." 


The  rays  of  happiness,  like  those  of  light,  are  colorless 

when  unbroken. 

Lo7igft'llaw. 

Our  forefathers  won  independence  for  us.  It  remains 
for  us  to  emancipate  ourselves  from  Independence  Day. 
I  would  muzzle  the  Fourth  of  July. 

•■'John  Paul:' 


July  6. 

Here  are  sweet-peas,  on  tiptoe  for  a  flight, 
With  wings  of  gentle  flush  o'er  delicate  white, 
And  taper  fingers  catching  at  all  things 
To  bind  them  all  about  with  tiny  rings. 


Keats. 


THE   HUMMING-BIRD. 

Little  green  hunter  in  meadows  of  air  ! 

Busy,  blithe  buzzer  mid  odorous  bowers  ! 
Are  you  a  bird,  say,  or  something  more  rare, 
Kin  to  the  butterfly?  —  flirting  with  flowers, 
Kissing,  caressing  them. 
Billing  them,  pressing  them, 
All  the  day  long  through  the  blue  balmy  hours  ! 
Bright  little,  light  little,  slight  little  hummer. 
Lover  of  sunshine,  and  lover  of  summer  1 

Anon. 


July  7. 

Nobody  can  critically  observe  the  structure  of  American 
social  or  domestic  life  without  being  struck  by  the  im- 
mense amount  of  energy  which  is  wasted  in  the  woman's 
half  of  it. 

The  mistake  made  by  all  these  women  whose  energy 
is  running  to  waste,  is  that  their  aims  are  too  wide  and 
too  vague.  A  living  is  to  be  earned,  not  by  general 
amateur,  lady-like  "  pottering,"  as  Carlyle  grimly  calls  it, 
but  by  a  definite  trade  or  craft,  followed  accurately  and 
openly. 


Sometimes,  just  to  have  one's  mood 

Comprehended  is  relief: 
Simply  to  be  understood 
In  one's  sorrow  is  a  good 

That  avails  to  soften  grief. 

Mary  E.  Bradley. 


July  8. 

Let  not  the  blessings  we  receive  daily  from  God  make 
us  not  to  value  or  not  praise  him,  because  they  be  com- 
mon. 

I  have  been  told,  that  if  a  man  that  was  born  blind 
could  obtain  to  have  his  sight  for  but  only  one  hour 
during  his  whole  life,  and  should,  at  the  first  opening  of 
his  eyes,  fix  his  sight  upon  the  sun  when  it  was  in  full 
glory,  either  at  the  rising  or  the  setting  of  it,  he  would  be 
so  transported  and  amazed,  that  he  would  not  willingly 
turn  his  eyes  to  behold  all  the  other  various  beauties  this 
world  could  present  to  him.  And  this  and  many  other 
blessings  we  enjoy  daily.  And,  for  most  of  them,  most 
men  forget  to  pay  their  praise ;  but  let  not  us. 

Izaak   Walton. 


Constant  sunshine,  however  welcome, 
Ne'er  would  ripen  fruit  or  flower. 


Alton 


July  9. 

Why  are  the  flowers  growing, 
With  odors  overflowing? 
Because  the  sun  each  blossom  loves 
More  than  the  honey-bee  that  roves ; 
For  this  the  flowers  are  growing, 
With  odors  overflowing. 


E.  B.  Robinson. 


Don't  buy  a  thermometer  now 
They'll  be  lower  by  and  by. 


Then,  for  the  fabric  of  my  mind, 
'Tis  mair  to  mirth  than  grief  inclined : 
I  rather  choose  to  laugh  at  folly. 
Than  show  dislike  by  melancholy. 
Well  judging  a  sour  and  heavy  face, 
Is  not  the  surest  mark  of  grace. 


Anon, 


July  lO. 

It  is  the  part  of  an  indiscreet  and  troublesome  ambi- 
tion to  care  too  much  about  fame,  —  about  what  the 
world  says  of  us  ;  to  be  always  looking  into  the  faces  of 
others  for  approval ;  to  be  always  anxious  for  the  effect 
of  what  we  do  and  say ;  to  be  always  shouting  to  hear 
the  echo  of  our  own  voices.  If  you  look  about  you,  you 
will  see  men  who  are  wearing  life  away  in  feverish  anxiety 
of  fame ;  and  the  last  we  shall  ever  hear  of  them  will  be 
the  funeral-bell  that  tolls  them  to  their  early  graves  ! 

Longfellow. 


A  PITCHER  of  mignonette. 

In  a  tenement's  highest  casement ! 

Queer  sort  of  a  flower-pot,  —  yet 

That  pitcher  of  mignonette 

Is  a  garden  in  heaven  set 

To  the  little  sick  child  in  the  basement. 

Anon. 


July  11. 

We  felt  all  the  while  the  cheer  and  gladness  and 
brightness  of  her  presence,  just  because  she  had  learned 
to  make  this  great  distinction,  —  to  put  some  things  first, 
and  other  things  second.  She  had  learned  the  great 
secret  of  life,  which  is  to  live  in  human  lives,  and  not  in 
things;  and  her  sympathies  were  so  broad,  that  they 
carried  her  nobly,  steadily,  cheerily  along  the  Christian 
way. 

William  J.    Tucker. 

Never  fail  thy  cheerfulness. 

Whittier. 


Hold  out !  there  comes  an  end  to  sorrow ; 
Hope  from  the  dust  shall  conquering  rise ; 
The  storm  foretells  a  summer's  morrow; 
The  cross  points  on  to  paradise ; 
The  Father  reigneth  !  cease  all  doubt ; 
Hold  on,  my  heart,  hold  on,  hold  out ! 

Golden    Words. 


July  12. 


MY   NASTURTIUMS. 


Quaint  blossom  with  the  old  fantastic  name, 

By  jester  christened  at  some  ancient  feast, 
How  royally  to-day  among  the  least 

Considered  herbs  it  flings  its  spice  and  flame  ! 
How  careless  wears  a  velvet  of  the  same 

Unfathomed  red,  which  ceased  when  Titian  ceased 
To  paint  it  in  the  robe  of  doge  and  priest  1 

O  long-lost  loyal  red,  which  never  came 
Again  to  painter's  palette  !  —  on  my  sight 

It  flashes  at  this  moment,  trained  and  poured 
Through  my  nasturtiums  in  the  morning  light. 

IT.  IT. 


July   13. 

No  folded  morning-glory  bud 

Blooms,  closes  fast,  then  blooms  again  : 
Once  shaken  out,  the  colors  fade, 

The  beauty's  gone  for  aye,  —  but  then, 

New  buds  will  open  to  the  day 
When  next  the  early  morn  awakes ; 

So,  though  some  bright  things  pass  away, 
My  heart  some  hopeful  comfort  takes. 

Our  "life  hath  many  mornings,"  so 
Hath  said  some  rarely  gifted  one ; 

And  morning-glory  buds  will  bloom 
With  every  summer-morning  sun. 

J.   //.  Johuiton. 


July   14. 

As  June  was  the  month  of  music  and  flowers,  July  is 
the  harvest  month  of  the  early  fruits ;  and,  though  the 
poet  might  prefer  the  former,  the  present  offers  the 
most  attractions  to  the  epicure.  The  rocks  and  preci- 
pices, so  lately  crowned  with  flowers,  are  festooned  with 
thimbleberries.  There  is  no  spot  so  barren  that  it  is  not 
covered  with  something  that  is  beautiful  to  the  sight  or 
grateful  to  the  sense.  The  little  pearly  flowers  that  hung 
in  profusion  from  the  low  blueberry-bushes  are  trans- 
formed into  azure  fruits  that  rival  the  flower  in  elegance. 

Summer  is  surely  the  season  of  epicurism,  as  spring  is 
that  of  the  luxury  of  sentiment. 

_  Wilson  Fiasrz- 


The  rays  of  happiness,  like  those  of  light,  are  colorless 

when  unbroken. 

Longfellow. 


July   15. 

"  If  St.  Swithin  weeps,"  the  proverb  says, 
"The  weather  will  be  foul  for  forty  days." 


Try  it  for  a  day,  I  beseech  you,  to  preserve  yourself 
in  an  easy  and  cheerful  frame  of  mind.  Compare  the 
day  in  which  you  have  rooted  out  the  weed  of  dissatis- 
faction with  that  on  which  you  have  allowed  it  to  grow 
up,  and  you  will  find  your  heart  open  to  every  good 
motive,  your  life  strengthened,  and  your  breast  armed  with 
a  panoply  against  every  trick  of  fate :  truly,  you  will 
wonder  at  your  own  improvement. 


The  best  thing  in  the  world  is  to  be  a  Christian. 

Phillips  Brooks. 


July   16. 

There  is  a  flower,  a  little  flower, 
With  silver  crest  and  golden  eye, 

That  welcomes  every  changing  hour, 
And  weathers  every  sky. 

On  waste  and  woodland,  rock  and  plain, 
Its  humble  buds  unheeded  rise  : 

The  rose  has  but  a  summer-reign ; 
The  daisy  never  dies  ! 

Montgomery. 


Clear  and  simple  in  white  and  gold 

Meadow  blossom.     Of  sunlit  spaces 

The  field  is  full  as  it  well  can  hold, 

And  white  with  the  drift  of  the  ox-eye  daisies. 

D.  R.  Goodale. 


July    17. 

THE    FOUNTAIN. 

Into  the  sunshine, 

Full  of  the  light, 
Leaping  and  flashing 

From  morn  until  night; 
Ever  in  motion, 

Blithesome  and  cheery, 
Still  climbing  heavenward, 

Never  a-weary, — 
Glorious  fountain. 

Let  my  heart  be 
Fresh,  changeful,  constant, 

Upward,  like  thee  ! 


Lowell. 


He  who  has  a  thousand  friends  has  not  a  friend  to  spare, 
And  he  who  has  one  enemy  shall  meet  him  everywhere. 

Orietital. 


July   18. 

The  human  race  may,  for  practical  purposes,  be  divided 
into  three  parts:  i.  Honest  men,  who  mean  to  do  right, 
and  do  it;  2.  Knaves,  who  mean  to  do  wrong,  and  do  it; 
3.  Fools,  who  mean  to  do  whichever  of  the  two  is  the 
pleasanter.  These  last  may  be  divided  again  into  black 
fools,  who  would  rather  do  wrong,  but  dare  not,  unless  it 
is  tiie  fashion ;  white  fools,  who  would  rather  do  right,  but 
dare  not,  unless  it  is  the  fashion. 

Charles  Kingsley. 


Yellow-Bird,  where  did  you  learn  that  song. 
Perched  on  the  trellis  where  grape-vines  clamber, 
In  and  out  fluttering,  all  day  long, 
With  your  golden  breast  bedropped  with  amber  ? 

Where  do  you  hide  such  a  store  of  delight, 
O  delicate  creature,  tiny  and  slender  ! 
Like  a  mellow  morning  sunbeam  bright, 
And  overflowing  with  music  tender? 

Celia    Thaxter. 


July   19. 

And  her  against  sweet  Cheerfulness  was  placed, 
Whose  eyes,  hke  twinkling  stars  in  evening  clear. 
Were  decked  with  smiles  that  all  sad  humors  chased, 
And  darted  forth  delights  the  which  her  goodly  graced. 

Spenser, 


Hood  asserts  that  the  phrase  "republic  of  letters"  is 
used  to  insinuate,  that,  taking  the  whole  tribe  of  authors 
together,  they  have  not  a  sovereign  amongst  them. 


Just  to  bloom  beside  your  way  — 
That  is  why  the  flowers  are  sweet : 

You  want  fresh  ones  every  day  — 
That  is  why  the  flowers  are  fleet. 

Louise  C.  Moulton. 


July  20. 

A    FATAL     REPUTATION. 

But  learn  to  wear  a  sober  phiz; 

Be  stupid,  if  you  can : 
It's  such  a  very  serious  thing 

To  be  a  funny  man. 


Saxe. 


At  last  I  discovered,  that  wherever  I  went,  and  under 
whatever  circumstances  (except,  of  course,  at  the  funeral 
of  a  member  of  the  family),  I  was  expected  to  be  amusing. 
I  found  myself  in  the  same  relation  to  society  that  the  clown 
bears  to  the  circus-master  who  has  engaged  him,  —  he  must 
either  be  funny  or  leave  the  troupe. 

I  adjure  all  youthful  and  hopeful  persons,  who  have  a 
tendency  to  be  funny,  to  keep  it  a  profound  secret  from 
the  world. 

Isabel  F.  Bellcnvs. 


July  21. 

Blest  power  of  sunshine  !  genial  day, 
What  balm,  what  life,  is  in  thy  ray  ! 
To  feel  there  is  -such  real  bliss. 
That,  had  the  world  no  joy  but  this, 
To  sit  in  sunshine  calm  and  sweet. 
It  were  a  world  too  exquisite 
For  men  to  leave  it,  for  the  gloom. 
The  deep,  cold  shadow,  of  the  tomb. 

Moore. 


Every  person  is  responsible  for  all  the  good  within  the 
scope  of  his  abilities,  and  for  no  more ;  and  none  can  tell 
whose  sphere  is  the  largest. 

Gail  Hamilton. 


We  do  not  go  to  heaven,  but  heaven  comes  to  us. 
They  whose  inner  eye  is  opened  to  see  heaven,  and  they 
who  see  it,  are  in  it ;  and  the  air  to  them  is  thick  with 
angels,  like  the  background  of  Raphael's  "  Mother  in  Glory." 

F.  Hed^e. 


July   22. 

It  is  a  strange  fancy  of  mine,  but  I  cannot  help  wishing 
we  could  move  for  returns  —  as  their  phrase  is  in  parlia- 
ment —  for  the  suffering  caused  in  any  one  day,  or  other 
period  of  time,  throughout  the  world,  to  be  arranged  under 
certain  heads ;  and  we  should  then  see  what  the  world  has 
occasion  to  fear  most.  What  a  large  amount  would  come 
under  the  heads  of  unreasonable  fear  of  others,  of  miser- 
able quarrels  amongst  relations  upon  infinitesimally  small 
subjects,  of  imaginary  slights,  of  undue  cares,  of  false  shames, 
of  absolute  misunderstandings,  of  unnecessary  pains  to  main- 
tain credit  or  reputation,  of  vexation  that  we  cannot  make 
others  of  the  same  mind  with  ourselves  !  What  a  wonderful 
thing  it  would  be  to  see  set  down  in  figures,  as  it  were,  how 
ingenious  we  are  in  plaguing  one  ano'.her  ! 

Arthur  Helps. 


July  23. 

Many  a  child  goes  astray  simply  because  home  lacks 
sunshine.  A  child  needs  smiles  as  much  as  the  flowers 
need  sunbeams.  If  a  thing  pleases,  they  are  apt  to  seek 
it :  if  it  displeases,  they  are  apt  to  avoid  it.  If  home  is  a 
place  where  faces  are  sour,  and  words  harsh,  and  fault-find- 
ing is  ever  in  the  ascendant,  they  will  spend  as  many  hours 
as  possible  elsewhere. 


Every  man's  life  is  a  fairy-tale  written  by  God's  fingers. 

H.  C.  Andersen. 


Life  is  a  pure  flame,  and  we  live  by  an  invisible  sun 

within  us. 

Sir  T.  Browne. 


July  24. 


JULY. 

When  the  scarlet  cardinal  tells 

Her  dream  to  the  dragon-fly, 
And  the  lazy  breeze  makes  a  nest  in  the  trees, 

And  murmurs  a  lullaby, 
It  is  July. 

When  the  tangled  cobweb  pulls 
The  corn  flower's  blue  cap  awry, 

And  the  lilies  tall  lean  over  the  wall 
To  bow  to  the  butterfly. 
It  is  July. 

When  the  heat  like  a  mist-veil  floats. 

And  poppies  flame  in  the  rye, 
And  the  silver  note  in  the  streamlet's  throat 

Has  softened  almost  to  a  sigh. 
It  is  July. 

When  the  hours  are  so  still  that  Time 

Forgets  them,  and  lets  them  lie 
'Neath  petals  pink  till  the  night  stars  wink 
At  the  sunset  in  the  sky. 
It  is  July. 
Susan  Hartley  Siveity  in  St.  NtcJiolas. 


July   25. 

HAPPINESS  IN   LITTLE  THINGS  OF  THE   PRESENT. 

We  live  not  in  our  moments  or  our  years  : 

The  present  we  fling  from  us  like  the  rind 
Of  some  sweet  future,  which  we  after  find 

Bitter  to  taste,  or  bind  that  in  with  fears, 
And  water  it  beforehand  with  our  tears,  — 

Vain  tears  for  that  which  never  may  arrive ; 
Meanwhile  the  joy  whereby  we  ought  to  live, 

Neglected  or  unheeded  disappears. 
Wiser  it  were  to  welcome  and  make  ours 

Whate'er  of  good,  though  small,  the  present  brings, 
Kind  greetings,  sunshine,  songs  of  birds,  and  flowers, 

With  a  child's  pure  delight  in  little  things, 
And  of  the  griefs  unborn  to  rest  secure, 

Knowing  that  mercy  ever  will  endure. 

Dean  Trench. 


July  26. 

The  star  I  was  born  under  tells  me  to  look  up.     If  we 

didn't  come  into  this  world  to  better  ourselves,  we  might 

as  well  have  staid  where  we  were. 

Jerrold. 


It  is  as  great  to  be  a  woman  as  to  be  a  man. 

Walt  Whitjiian. 


Where  there  is  no  hope,  there  can  be  no  endeavor. 

Samuel  yohnson. 


As  the  sun  does  not  wait  for  prayers  and  incantations 
before  he  rises,  but  straightway  shines  forth,  and  is  hailed 
of  all :  so  do  not  wait  to  do  good  for  applause  and  noise 
and  praise,  but  do  it  of  your  own  desire ;  and,  like  the 
sun,  you  will  be  loved. 

Epictetus. 


July  27. 

Mirth  has  an  hygienic  value  that  can  hardly  be  over- 
rated while  our  social  life  remains  what  the  slavery  of 
vices  and  dogmas  has  made  it. 

Joy  has  been  called  the  sunshine  of  the  heart,  yet  the 
same  sun  that  calls  forth  the  flower  of  a  plant  is  also 
needed  to  expand  its  leaves  and  ripen  its  fruits ;  and, 
without  the  stimulus  of  exhilarating  pastimes,  perfect 
bodily  health  is  as  impossible  as  moral  and  mental  vigor. 
And,  as  sure  as  a  succession  of  uniform  crops  will  exhaust 
the  best  soil,  the  daily  repetition  of  a  monotonous  occu- 
pation will  wear  out  the  best  man. 

Felix  L.  Oswald. 


Honest  good   humor  is   the   oil  and  wine   of  a   merry 

meeting,  and  there   is   no   jovial   companionship  equal   to 

that  where  the   jokes    are    rather  small    and    the    laughter 

abundant. 

IV.  IrviiiiT. 


July   28. 

I  WONDER  what  the  clover  thinks, 
Intimate  friend  of  bobolinks, 
Lover  of  daisies  slim  and  white, 
Waltzer  with  buttercups  at  night; 
Keeper  of  inn  for  travelling-bees, 
Serving  to  them  wine-dregs  and  lees 
Left  by  the  royal  humming-birds. 
Who  sip,  and  pay  with  fine-spun  words ; 
Fellow  with  all  the  loveliest, 
Peer  of  the  gayest  and  the  best ; 
Comrade  of  wind,  beloved  of  sun, 
Kissed  by  the  dew-drops  one  by  one ; 
Prophet  of  good-luck  mystery 
By  sign  of  four,  which  few  may  see ; 
Sweet  by  the  roadsides,  sweet  by  rills, 
Sweet  in  the  meadows,  sweet  on  hills, 
Sweet  in  white,  sweet  in  its  red. 
Oh !  half  its  sweet  cannot  be  said, 

Saxe  Holm. 


July  29. 

God   is   no  Arabian    Nights'  good  genius  nor  fairy,  nor 

familiar  spirit,  in   attendance   on   his   favored   children,  to 

catch  them  when  they  fall,  to  avert  the  sword  or  bullet  that 

is  aimed  at  them,  or  to   save   them  from  wind  and  wave, 

shipwreck    and    storm.      He    lends    his    strength    in    and 

through   the  very  evils   that   come    from  the  operation  of 

his   universal   providence,   not   by   averting    their   physical 

consequences,   but   by   fortifying  the   heart   and   will   that 

survive  them,   not   necessarily  here,   but    somewhere    and 

forever. 

Henry  W.  Bellows. 


The  Lord  God  is  a  sun  and  shield. 


Religion  is  no  leaf  of  faded  green. 

Or  flower  of  vanished  fragrance,  pressed  between 

The  pages  of  a  Bible ;  but  from  seeds 

Of  love  it  springeth,  watered  by  good  deeds. 

y.  T.  Trowbridge. 


July   30. 


FERNS. 

Ferns,  beautiful  ferns, 

By  the  side  of  the  running  waters, 
Lovely  and  sweet  and  fresh. 

As  the  fairest  of  earth-born  daughters; 
Under  the  dreamy  shade 

Of  the  forest's  mighty  branches, 
Curving  their  graceful  shapes 

To  the  playful  wind's  advances. 

Ferns,  delicate  ferns. 

Neighbors  of  emerald  mosses ; 
Having  no  thought  or  care 

For  worldly  attainments  or  losses. 
Children  of  shadow  serene. 

Fresh  at  the  heart  through  the  summer: 
Over  the  cool  springs  they  lean, 

Where  the  sunbeam  is  rarely  a  comer. 

Ferns,  feathery  ferns. 

Delicate,  slender,  and  frail ; 
Nursed  by  the  streamlet,  whose  song 

Is  music  for  hillside  and  vale. 
Purity,  modesty,  grace, 

Emblems  of  these  to  the  mind  ; 
Loving  the  quietest  place. 

That  ever  a  sunbeam  will  find. 


July  31. 

What  boots  it  to  repeat 
How  time  is  skipping  underneath  our  feet? 
Unborn  To-morrow  and  dead  Yesterday  — 
Why  fret  about  them  if  to-day  be  sweet? 

Persiaji. 


Know'st  thou  Yesterday,  its  aim  and  reason? 
Work'st  thou  well  To-day  for  worthy  things? 

Then  calmly  wait  the  morrow's  hidden  season, 
And  fear  not  thou  what  hap  soe'er  it  brings. 


There  are  some  people  who  think  they  make  the  most 
of  life  when  they  make  it  as  wretched  as  possible.  Lut- 
trell  was  once  asked  if  an  acquaintance  of  his  was  not 
very  disagreeable.  "  Well,"  was  the  reply,  "  he  is  always 
as  disagreeable  as  the  circumstances  will  permit." 


August  1. 

In  the  parching  August  wind, 
Cornfields  bow  the  head, 
Sheltered  in  round  valley  depths. 
On  low  hills  outspread. 


C.  G.  Rossctti. 


The   man   was   dust   refined,  but   the   woman  was   dust 

double-refined,  —  one  remove  farther  fi-om  the  earth.     The 

woman  was  made  of  a  rib  out  of  the  side  of  Adam,  —  not 

made  out  of  his  head  to  top  him,  nor  out  of  his  feet  to 

be    trampled   upon   by   him,    but   out   of  his   side   to   be 

equal  with  him,  under  his  arm  to  be  protected,  and  near 

his  heart  to  be  beloved. 

Matthew  Henry. 


The  greatest  of  faults,  I  should  say,  is  to  be  conscious 

of  none. 

Carlyle. 


August  2. 

I  didn't  seem  to  be  needed  so  much  a-judgin'  the 
world,  and  settlin'  on  jest  how  many  was  a-goin'  to  be 
saved  or  lost,  as  I  did  a-mindin'  my  own  business,  and 
tryin'  to  read  my  own  title  clear  to  mansions  in  the 
skies.  Says  I,  "  I  find  it  a  tuckerin'  job  to  take  care 
of  one  sinner  as  she  ort  to  be  took  care  of;  and  it 
would  make  me  ravin'  crazy  if  I  had  to  take  care  of 
the  hull  universe." 

It  fairly  makes  me  out  of  patience,  when  there  is  so 
much  work  our  Master  sot  for  us  to  do  for  his  sake,  —  it 
fairly  makes  me  mad  to  see  folks  refuse  to  do  a  mite  of 
that  work,  but  tackle  jobs  they  hain't  sot  to  tackle. 

Marietta  Hoi  ley. 


Job  says,  "  Why   should   a    living    man    complain  ? "     1 
really  don't  know,  except  it  be  that  a  dead  man  can't. 

Byron. 


August  3. 

It  is  difficult  to  estimate  how  great  a  part  of  all  that 
is  cheerful  and  delightful  in  the  recollections  of  our  life 
is  associated  with  trees. 

Trees  are  among  the  most  poetic  objects  of  creation. 
Every  wood  teems  with  legends  of  mythology  and  ro- 
mance, every  tree  is  vocal  with  music,  and  their  flowers 
and  fruits  do  not  afford  more  luxury  to  the  sense  than 
delight  to  the  mind.  Trees  have  their  roots  in  the 
ground ;  but  they  send  up  their  branches  towards  the 
skies,  and  are  so  many  supplicants  to  Heaven  for  bless- 
ings on  the  earth. 

Wilson  Flagg. 

As  for  marigolds,  poppies,  hollyhocks,  and  valorous 
sunflowers,  we  shall  never  have  a  garden  without  them, 
both  for  their  own  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  old-fash- 
ioned folks  who  used  to  love  them. 

H.  W.  Beecher. 


August  4. 

Of  some  very  lachrymose  person  Rivarol  said,  "The 
prophet  Jeremiah  would  have  appeared  a  buffoon  by  the 
side  of  him." 


The  quiet  August  noon  has  come  : 
A  slumberous  silence  fills  the  sky ; 

The  fields  are  still,  the  woods  are  dumb ; 
In  glassy  sleep  the  waters  lie. 

Away  !  I  will  not  be  to-day 

The  only  slave  of  toil  and  care. 
Away  from  desk  and  dust  !  away  1 

I'll  be  as  idle  as  the  air. 

Bryant 


August  5. 

Our  Lord  God  is  like  a  printer,  who  sets  the  lotter? 
backwards.  We  see  and  feel  him  set  the  types  well,  but 
we  cannot  read  them.  When  we  are  printed  off  yonder, 
in  the  life  to  come,  we  shall  read  all  clear  and  straight- 
forward.    Meantime  we  must  have  patience. 

LtitJier. 


What  need  of  faith,  if  all  were  visibly  clear? 

'Tis  for  the  trial-time  that  this  was  given. 
Though  clouds  be  thick,  its  sun  is  just  as  near; 

And  faith  will  find  Him  in  the  heart  of  heaven. 


Some  comfort  when  all  else  is  night 

About  his  fortune  plays, 
Who  sets  his  dark  to-days  in  the  light 

Of  the  sunnier  yesterdays. 

Thank  God,  when  other  power  decays, 

And  other  pleasures  die. 
We  still  may  set  our  dark  to-days 

In  the  light  of  days  gone  by. 

Alice  Cary. 


August  6. 

Like  a  cradle,  rocking,  rocking, 

Silent,  peaceful,  to  and  fro ; 
Like  a  mother's  sweet  looks  dropping 

On  the  little  face  below, — 
Hangs  the  green  earth,  swinging,  turning, 

Jarless,  noiseless,  safe,  and  slow ; 
Falls  the  light  of  God's  face,  bending 

Down,  and  watching  us  below. 

And  as  feeble  babes  that  suffer, 

Toss  and  cry,  and  will  not  rest, 
Are  the  ones  the  tender  mother 

Holds  the  closest,  loves  the  best ; 
So  when  we  are  weak  and  wretched. 

By  our  sins  weighed  down,  distressed. 
Then  it  is  that  God's  great  patience 

Holds  us  closest,  loves  us  best. 

Saxe  Holm. 


August  7. 

Anatomikally  konsidered,  laffing  iz  the  sensashun  ot 
pheeling  good  all  over,  and  showing  it  principally  in  one 
spot. 

Morally  konsidered,  it  iz  the  next  best  thing  tew  the 
Ten  Commandments. 

Genuine  laffing  iz  the  vent  of  the  soul,  the  nostrils  of 
the  heart,  and  iz  jist  az  necessary  for  helth  and  happi- 
ness az  spring  water  iz  for  a  trout. 


A    CHEERFUL    VIEW    OF    THINGS. 

"  How  dismal  you  look  !  "  said  a  Bucket  to  his  com- 
panion, as  they  were  going  to  the  well. 

"Ah!"  replied  the  other:  "I  was  reflecting  on  the 
uselessness  of  our  being  filled ;  for,  let  us  go  away  ever 
so  full,  we  always  come  back  empty." 

"  Dear  me  !  how  strange  to  look  at  it  in  that  way  ! " 
said  the  Bucket.  "  Now,  I  enjoy  the  thought,  that,  how- 
ever empty  we  come,  we  always  go  away  full.  Only  look 
at  it  in  that  light,  and  you'll  be  as  cheerful  as  I  am." 


August  8. 

Flowers  preach  to  us  if  we  will  hear. 

The  rose  saith  in  the  dewy  morn, 

"  I  am  most  fair, 

Yet  all  my  loveliness  is  bom 

Upon  a  thorn." 

The  lilies  say,  "  Behold  how  we 

Preach,  without  words,  of  purity  ! " 

But  not  alone  the  fairest  flowers  : 
The  merest  grass 

Along  the  roadside  where  we  pass, 
Lichen  and  moss  and  sturdy  weed, 
Tell  oi  His  love  who  sends  the  dew, 
The  rain,  and  the  sunshine  too. 
To  nourish  one  small  seed. 

G.  D.  Rossetti. 


August  9. 

MAN   AND   HIS   SHOES. 

How  much  a  man  is  like  old  shoes  ! 

For  instance,  both  a  sole  may  lose ; 

Both  have  been  tanned,  both  are  made  tight 

By  cobblers.     Both  get  left  and  right, 

Both  need  a  mate  to  be  complete, 

And  both  are  made  to  go  on  feet. 

They  both  need  healing:  oft  are  sold. 

And  both  in  time  all  turn  to  mould. 

With  shoes  the  last  is  first;  with  men 

The  first  shall  be  last ;  and,  when 

The  shoes  wear  out,  they're  mended  new; 

When  men  wear  out  they're  men  dead  too. 

They  both  are  trod  upon ;  and  both 

Will  tread  on  others,  nothing  loath. 

Both  have  their  ties  ;  and  both  incline. 

When  polished,  in  the  world  to  shine  ; 

And  both  peg  out  —  and  would  you  choose 

To  be  a  man,  or  be  his  shoes? 

New  Orleans  Picayune. 


August  lO. 

Flowers,  though  born  of  earth,  we  may  well  believe, — 
if  any  thing  of  earthly  soil  grows  in  the  higher  realm, 
if  any  of  its  methods  are  continued,  if  any  of  the  forms 
are  identical  there, — will  live  on  the  banks  of  the  River 
of  Life.  Flowers !  that  in  all  our  gladness,  in  all  our 
sorrow,  are  never  incongruous,  always  appropriate.  Ap- 
propriate in  the  church,  as  expressive  of  its  purest  and 
most  social  themes,  and  blending  their  sweetness  with 
incense  of  prayer.  Appropriate  in  the  joy  of  the  marriage 
hour  —  in  the  loneliness  of  the  sick-room  —  and  crowning 
with  prophesy  the  forehead  of  the  dead.  They  give 
completeness  to  the  associates  of  childhood,  and  are 
appropriate,  even  by  the  side  of  old  age,  strongly  as  their 
freshness  contrasts  with  the  wrinkles  and  gray  hairs ;  for 
still  they  are  suggestive  —  they  are  symbolical  of  the  soul's 
perpetual  youth,  the  inward  blossoming  of  immortality, 
the  amaranthine  crown.  In  their  presence  we  feel,  that, 
when  the  body  shall  be  as  a  withered  calyx,  the  soul  shall 
go  forth  like  a  winged  steed. 

Chapin. 


August  11. 

Is  this  a  time  to  be  cloudy  and  sad, 

When  our  Mother  Nature  laughs  around, 

When  even  the  deep-blue  heavens  look  glad, 

And  gladness  breathes  from  the  blossoming  ground? 

There  are  notes  of  joy  from  the  hang-bird  and  wren. 
And  the  gossip  of  swallows  through  all  the  sky 

The  ground-squirrel  gayly  chirps  by  his  den, 
And  the  wilding  bee  hums  merrily  by. 

And  look  at  the  broad-faced  sun,  how  he  smiles 
On  the  dewy  earth,  that  smiles  in  his  ray, 

On  the  leaping  waters  and  gay  young  isles,  — 
Ay,  look,  and  he'll  smile  thy  gloom  away. 

Bryant. 


August  12. 

Hearts  grown  a-vveary  with  heavier  woe 

Droop  mid  the  darkness,  —  go,  comfort  them,  go  ! 

Bury  thy  sorrow :  let  others  be  blest ; 

Give  them  the  sunshine,  tell  Jesus  the  rest. 


And  up  the  east  another  day 

Shall  chase  the  bitter  dark  away. 

What  though  our  eyes  with  tears  be  wet? 

The  sunrise  never  failed  us  yet. 

The  blush  of  dawn  may  yet  restore 
Our  light  and  hope  and  joy  once  more. 
Sad  soul,  take  comfort,  nor  forget 
That  sunrise  never  failed  us  yet. 

Celia  Thaxter. 


Let  us  seek  the  seaside,  there 
To  wander  idly  as  we  list. 


Lowell. 


August  13. 

No  woman  can  be  the,  worse  for  possessing  brains.  The 
hue  and  cry  set  up  against  higher  education,  examinations, 
and  new  openings  for  woman's  work,  has  a  hollow  ring  about 
it.  Men  have  a  sneaking  suspicion  that  they  are  not  so 
intellectually  superior  as  they  have  been  led  to  suppose. 
Unconsciously  to  themselves,  they  are  afraid  of  being  found 
out ;  or  else  perhaps  they  are  lazy,  and  are  fearful  of  being 
stirred  up. 

Yet  womanliness  does  not  consist  in  intellectuality.  The 
first  thing  in  which  it  does  consist  is  self-respect. 

Sa)7uiel  Pearson. 


A    TRUE    FRIEND. 

Thou  mayest  be  sure  that  he  that  will  in  private  tell  thee 
thy  faults,  is  thy  friend  ;  for  he  adventures  thy  dislike,  and 
doth  hazard  thy  hatred  :  for  there  are  few  men  that  can 
endure  it ;  every  man,  for  the  most  part,  delighting  in  self- 
praise,  which  is  one  of  the  most  universal  follies  that  be- 

witcheth  mankind. 

Sir  Walter  RaJeipJi. 


August  14. 

Truth,  like  the   sun,  submits  to  be  obscured,  but,  like 
the  sun,  only  for  a  time. 

Bovee. 


The  spikes  from  the  thistle-blossom  and  other  winged 
seeds,  which  send  their  pretty  pinnaces  afloat  on  our  August 
air,  have  not  this  summer,  so  much  as  aiiother  summer,  in 
view.  Even  when  November  spreads  her  pall,  there  will  be 
buds  ready  formed,  and  protected  against  the  winter,  which 
the  warm  south  wind  and  sunshine  of  the  coming  spring 
will  awaken.  Nothing  goes  out  of  existence  carelessly : 
nothing  has  danced  or  piped  for  simply  selfish  ends.  Into 
the  whole,  and  in  its  parts,  is  blown  the  subtle  breath  and 
potency  of  a  sure,  and  not  remote,  resurrection.     And  so  — 

"  The  specious  panorama  of  a  year 
But  multiplies  the  image  of  a  da}', — 
A  belt  of  mirrors  round  a  taper's  flame; 
And  universal  Nature,  through  her  vast 
And  crowded  whole,  an  infinite  paroquet, 
Repeats  one  note." 


August  15. 

There  is  no  blessedness  in  life 

Apart  from  blessed  love  : 
This  sanctifies  the  dreary  strife 

Which  all  who  live  must  prove. 
It  lifts  the  burden  from  the  soul, 

And  puts  the  staff  into  the  hand : 
The  gloomy  clouds  behind  us  roll, 

And  all  before  is  dawn  and  fairy-land. 

Oh,  love  is  light  where  all  is  dark  ! 

It  goeth  on  before, 
A  strong  and  still  preserved  ark. 

Though  tempests  round  us  roar. 
Oh,  love  the  sphered  world  contains ! 

All  life  within  itself  it  hath  : 
All  else  goes  by;  but  love  remains. 

And  waves  a  heaven-lit  torch  before  our  path. 

C.  P.  Cranch. 


August  16. 

No  one  who  has  not  suffered  deeply  has  ever  loved  deeply, 

prayed   deeply,  enjoyed   deeply.     The   plough  which   cuts 

sharpest  furrows  in  our  hearts,  alone  enables  them  to  bear 

their  richest  harvest. 

F.  P.  Cobbe. 

If  none  were  sick,  and  none  were  sad, 

What  service  could  we  render? 
I  think,  if  we  were  always  glad. 

We  scarcely  could  be  tender. 
Did  our  beloved  never  need 

Our  patient  ministration. 
Earth  would  grow  cold,  and  miss  indeed 

Its  sweetest  consolation. 
If  sorrow  never  claimed  our  heart, 

And  every  wish  were  granted. 
Patience  would  die,  and  hope  depart : 

Life  would  be  disenchanted. 

J.  Besetneres. 


August  17. 

Give  me  the  old  Dutch  honeysuckle 
A-makin'  even  the  night-time  sweet, 

A-blossoniin'  at  every  knuckle, 

And  hangin'  to  your  very  feet. 

And  pink  and  buff  and  white  carnations. 
And  rosebuds  snuggled  up  in  moss, 

Heart's-ease  and  vi'lets,  dear  relations, 

And  gay  snapdragons,  bright  and  cross. 

Give  me  the  good  old  week-day  blossoms 

I  used  to  see  so  long  ago, 
With  hearty  sweetness  in  their  bosoms. 

Ready  and  glad  to  bud  an'  blow. 

Rose  Terry  Cooke. 


August   18. 

The  year  goes  wrong,  and  tares  grow  strong; 

Hope  starves  without  a  crumb ; 

But  God's  time  is  our  harvest  time, 

And  that  is  sure  to  come. 

L.  J.  Bates. 


A  LADY  may  give  her  husband  a  piece  of  her  mind,  if 
she  chooses,  but  she  shouldn't  break  the  peace. 

G.  D.  Prentice. 


Voltaire  characterized  tlie  employment  of  a  medical 
man  as  "pouring  drugs,  of  which  he  knew  very  little, 
into  bodies,  of  which  he  knew  less." 


"How  does  your  horse  answer?"  inquired  the  Duke  of 
Cumberland  of  George  Selwyn. 

"  I  really  don't  know,"  George  replied.  "  I  have  never 
asked  him  a  question." 


August  19. 

It  would  be  a  poor  result  of  all  our  anguish  and  wres- 
tling, if  we  were  nothing  but  our  old  selves  at  the  end  of 
it,  —  if  we  could  return  to  the  same  blind  loves,  the  same 
self-confident  blame,  the  same  light  thoughts  of  human  suf- 
fering, the  same  frivolous  gossip  over  blighted  human  lives, 
the  same  feeble  sense  of  that  unknown  toward  which  we 
have  sent  forth  irrepressible  cries  in  our  loneliness. 

Adatn  Bede. 


Yet  meekly  yield  when  thou  must  drink 
The  righteous  cup  of  human  sorrow, 

For  patient  suff'ring  is  the  link 

Which  binds  us  to  a  glorious  morrow. 

Norman  Macleod, 


August  20. 


Faith  iz  the  rite  bower  ov  Hope.  If  it  wan't  for  faith, 
thare  would  be  no  living  in  this  world.  We  couldn't  even 
eat  hash  with  enny  safety  if  it  wan't  for  faith. 

Faith  iz  one  ov  them  warriors  who  don't  kno  when  she 
iz  whipped. 


A   GOOD   HINT. 


Always  do  as  the  sun  does,  —  look  at  the  bright  side  of 
every  thing  :  it  is  just  as  cheap,  and  three  times  as  good  for 
digestion.     Do  it  —  if  you  can. 


Light-enchanted  sunflower,  thou 
Who  gazest  ever  true  and  tender 
On  the  sun's  revolving  splendor ! 

Shelley. 


August  21. 

Pleasure  is  very  seldom  found  where  it  is  sought :  our 
brightest  blazes  of  gladness  are  commonly  kindled  by 
unexpected  sparks.  The  flowers  which  scatter  their 
odors .  from  time  to  time  in  the  paths  of  life  grow  up 
without  culture,  from  seeds  scattered  by  chance. 

Samuel  yohnson. 


I  THINK  it  must  somewhere  be  written,  that  the  virtues 
of  mothers  shall  occasionally  be  visited  on  the  children, 
as  well  as  the  sins  of  their  fathers. 

Dickens. 


Good  manners  are  made  up  of  petty  sacrifices. 

Emerson. 


Moderation  ig   the   silken   string  running  through    the 

pearl  chain  of  all  virtues. 

Tliotiias  Fuller. 


August  22. 

Buttercup  nodded,  and  said  "  good-by ;  " 
Clover  and  daisy  went  off  together ; 
But  the  fragrant  water-hHes  lie 
Yet  moored  in  the  golden  August  weather. 

Celia  TJiaxter. 


Some   folks   think   that   their  personal  importance  fills  a 

large    space    in    the    public    eye,  when    it   is   all   in   their 

own. 

G.  D.  Praiiice. 


The   Lord   gets   his   best   soldiers  out  of  the  highlands 

of  Affliction. 

Spurgeon. 

No    entertainment    is    so    cheap   as    reading,    nor    any 

pleasure  so  lasting. 

Lady  Mary  Montagu. 


August   23. 

"  O  DREARY  life  i  "  we  cry,  "  O  dreary  life  !  " 

And  still  the  generations  of  the  birds 

Sing  through  our  sighing,  and  the  flocks  and  herds 

Serenely  live  while  we  are  keeping  strife 

With  Heaven's  true  purpose  in  us,  as  a  knife 

Against  which  we  may  struggle.     Ocean  girds 

Unslackened  the  dry  land  :  savannah-swards 

Unweary  sweep  :  hills  watch,  unworn ;  and  rife 

Meek  leaves  drop  yearly  from  the  forest-trees, 

To  show  above  the  unwasted  stars  that  pass 

In  their  old  glory.     O  thou  God  of  old  ! 

Grant  me  some  smaller  grace  than  comes  to  these ; 

But  so  much  patience  as  a  blade  of  grass 

Grows  by  contented  through  the  heat  and  cold. 

Mrs,  Brownimr. 


August  24. 


In  the  latter  part  of  August  we  begin  to  mark  the 
approaching  footsteps  of  Autumn. 

Already  do  I  hear  at  nightfall  the  chirping  of  the 
cicadas,  whose  notes  are  at  the  same  time  the  harvest- 
hymn  of  Nature,  and  a  dirge  over  the  depaiture  of  the 
flowers. 


I  LOVE  to  hear  thine  earnest  voice, 

Wherever  thou  art  hid. 
Thou  testy  little  dogmatist, 

Thou  pretty  Katydid  ! 

Holmes. 


It  seems  no  more  than  right  that  men  should  seize  Time 
by  the  forelock,  for  the  rude  old  fellow  sooner  or  later  pulls 
all  their  hair  out. 


August  25. 


On   the   bathing-tub  of  K'ang  the  following  words  were 
engraved :  "  If  you  can,  renovate  yourself  each  day." 


Censure  is  the  tax  a  man  pays  to  the  public  for  being 

eminent. 

Swift. 


In   English   I  would   have   all   Gallicisms   avoided,  that 

our  tongue   may  be   sincere,  and   that   we   may  keep   to 

our  own  language. 

Felton. 


I   HAVE   seen  in  Islington   churchyard  an  epitaph  to  an 

infant  who   died  atatis  four  months,  with   this   seasonable 

inscription  appended  :  "  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother, 

that  thy  days  may  be  long  in  the  land,"  etc. 

Lamb. 


August  26. 

One  adequate  support 
For  the  calamities  of  mortal  life 
Exists,  —  one  only:  an  assured  belief 
That  the  procession  of  our  fate,  howe'er 
Sad  or  disturbed,  is  ordered  by  a  Being 
Of  infinite  benevolence  and  power. 
Whose  everlasting  purposes  embrace 
All  accidents,  converting  them  to  good. 

Wordsworth. 


Make  me  as  one  that  casteth  not  by  day 
A  dreary  shadow,  but  reflecting  aye 
One  little  beam,  loved,  warmed  and  golden,  caught 
From  the  bright  sun  that  lights  our  daily  way. 

/.  P.  Boynton. 


August  27. 

MIDSUMMER   SONG. 

Now  flits  the  bee  through  clover-dales, 

Now  shallow  grows  the  river 
In  leafy  nooks  where  lilies  float 

And  wandering  sunbeams  quiver. 

Now  thistledown  begins  to  fly, 

And  drowsily  the  south  winds  sigh,    , 

"  Good-by,  good-by, 

Good-by." 

O  fair  Midsummer  !     Like  the  bee 

A-dream  in  sylvan  places. 
We  taste  the  sweetness  of  thy  bloom. 

Thy  wonderful,  wild  graces. 
Alas!  must  all  this  beauty  die?  — 
Drowsily  the  soft  winds  sigh, 
"  Good-by,  good-by, 
Good-by." 

Ellen  M.  Hutr.hinson. 


August  28. 


Some  day  in  August,  if  you  will  watch  carefully,  you  will 
see  a  whole  colony  of  swallows  congregate  on  the  shed  or 
barn.  They  are  somewhat  mute  and  pensive  for  once. 
They  have  been  holding  this  conference,  on  occasions,  for 
several  days.  But  to-morrow  you  will  look  for  them  in  vain. 
The  ragged  remnant  of  summer  that  is  left  must  get  on  with- 
out them,  and  we  feel  that  the  year  has  made  a  definite  step 
again  toward  its  close. 

"  Into  the  dun  and  mellow  sky 

The  playful  swallows  dip  and  dart : 
Now,  in  their  reckless  course,  apart, 
And  now  in  various  groups  they  fly. 

To-morrow,  on  the  old  gray  shed 
They  gather,  twitterless  and  mute  : 
Another  day  wise  men  dispute, 

But  cannot  tell  where  they  have  fled." 


August  29. 


"To  be  resigned  when  ills  betide, 
Patient  when  favors  are  denied, 
And  pleased  with  favors  given, 
This  surely  is  true  wisdom's  part. 
This  is  that  incense  of  the  heart 
Whose  fragrance  swells  to  heaven. 

IV.  Cotton. 


Stars  lying  in  God's  hand, 

We  know  ye  were  not  planned 

Merely  to  light  men  on  their  midnight  way. 

Shine  on,  ye  fiery  stars  ! 

It  may  be  through  your  bars 

We  shall  pass  upwards  to  eternal  day. 

Hamilton  Aidi. 


August  30. 


Nothing  makes  a  man  so  contented  as  an  experience 
gathered  from  a  well-watched  past.  As  the  beauty  of  the 
finest  landscape  is  sometimes  marred,  on  actual  inspection, 
by  a  nauseous  weed  at  your  feet,  or  painful  headache,  or 
many  little  things,  which  detract  from  a  loveliness  only 
fully  felt  in  the  recollection  when  those  trifles  are  forgotten ; 
so  our  chief  happiness  is  too  often  in  recollections  of  the 
past,  or  anticipation  of  the  future.  Now,  it  is  knowing 
what  the  past  really  was,  which  we  now  recall  with  so  much 
pleasure,  and  over  which  there  seems  to  be  "  a  light  which 
never  was  on  sea  or  land,"  that  we  are  able  to  estimate  the 
amount  of  happiness  and  value  of  the  present.  And  I 
think  he  who  does  this  will  seldom  be  discontented ;  for 
the  miseries  of  life  are  few,  and  its  blessings  are  new  to 
us  every  morning  and  evening. 

NoDiian  Macleod. 


August  31. 

Stately  hollyhocks,  row  on  row, 

Golden  sunflowers  all  aglow. 

Scarlet  poppies,  and  larkspurs  blue, 

Asters  of  every  shade  and  hue ; 

And  over  the  wall,  like  a  trail  of  fire, 

The  red  nasturtium  climbs  high  and  higher. 

My  lady's-slippers  are  fair  to  see. 
And  her  pinks  are  as  sweet  as  sweet  can  be, 
With  gillyflowers  and  mourning-brides. 
And  many  another  flower  besides. 

"Julia  Dorr. 


Faith  draws  the  poison  from  every  grief,  takes  the  sting 
from  every  loss,  and  quenches  the  fire  of  every  pain  ;  and 
only  faith  can  do  it.  ^^ 

J.  G.  Holland. 


September  1. 


This  is  the  first  day  of  autumn.  Summer  is  gone,  — 
how  swiftly  and  unperceivedly  !  It  has  seemed  to  me  Hke 
a  green  leaf  floating  upon  a  silent  river.  ...  In  like  man- 
ner the  gold  leaf  of  autumn  has  been  glistening  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  drawing  daily  nearer.  It,  too,  in  turn  will  glow 
and  shine  upon  the  spotted  stream  of  time,  and  go  past.  .  .  . 
To-day  is  a  goblet-day.  The  whole  heavens  have  been 
mingled  with  exquisite  skill  to  a  delicious  flavor,  and  the 
crystal  cup  put  to  every  lip.  Breathing  is  like  ethereal 
drinking.     It  is  a  luxury  simply  to  exist. 

Beecher. 


R  STANDS  for  oyster,  and  all  should  remember, 
The  opening  season  this  first  of  SeptembeR. 


September  2. 


Life  has  no  significance  to  me  save  as  the  theatre  in 
which  my  powers  are  developed  and  disciphned  for  use, 
and  made  fruitful  in  securing  my  own  independence,  and 
the  good  of  those  around  me,  or  as  the  scene  in  which 
I  am  fitted  for  the  work  and  worship  of  the  world  beyond. 

J.  G.  Holland. 


Hand  in  hand  with  angels, 

Through  the  world  we  go ; 
Brighter  eyes  are  on  us 

Than  we  blind  ones  know; 
Tenderer  voices  cheer  us 

Than  we  deaf  will  own  ; 

Never,  walking  heavenward. 

Can  we  walk  alone. 

,  Lucy  Larcovt. 


September  3. 


SEPTEMBER. 

The  golden-rod  is  yellow, 

The  corn  is  turning  brown, 
The  trees  in  apple-orchards 

With  fruit  are  bending  down. 

The  gentian's  bluest  fringes 

Are  curling  in  the  sun, 
In  dusky  pods  the  milkweed 

Its  hidden  silk  has  spun. 

The  sedges  flaunt  their  harvest 

In  every  meadow-nook, 
And  asters  by  the  brookside 

Make  asters  in  the  brook. 

By  all  these  lovely  tokens 

September  days  are  here. 

With  summer's  best  of  wealth. 

And  autumn's  best  of  cheer. 

H.  H. 


September  4. 


The  longer  I  live,  the  more  certain  I  am  that  the  great 
difference  between  men,  the  feeble  and  the  powerful,  the 
great  and  the  insignificant,  is  energy  and  invincible  deter- 
mination,—  a  purpose  once  fixed,  and  then  death  or  vic- 
tory. That  quality  will  do  any  thing  that  can  be  done  in 
this  world ;  and  no  talents,  no  circumstances,  no  oppor- 
tunities, will  make  a  two-legged  creature  a  man  without  it. 

Sir  T.  Fowell  Buxton. 


When  the  wayside  tangles  blaze 

In  the  low  September  sun, 

When  the  flowers  of  summer  day 

Droop  and  wither  one  by  one,  * 

Reaching  up  through  bush  and  brier. 

Sumptuous  brow  and  heart  of  fire, 

Flaunting  high  its  wind-rocked  plume, 

Brave  with  wealth  of  native  bloom, — 

Golden-rod  ! 

Elaine  Goodale. 


September  5. 


We  are  unwilling  walkers.  We  are  not  innocent  and 
simple-hearted  enough  to  enjoy  a  walk.  We  have  fallen 
from  that  state  of  grace  which  capacity  to  enjoy  a  walk 
implies.  It  cannot  be  said,  that  as  a  people  we  are  so  posi- 
tively sad  or  morose  or  melancholic  as  that  we  are  vacant 
of  that  sportiveness  and  surplusage  of  animal  spirits  that 
characterized  our  ancestors,  and  that  springs  from  full  and 
harmonious  life,  —  a  sound  heart  in  accord  with  a  sound 
body,  A  man  must  invest  himself  near  at  hand,  and  in 
common  things,  and  be  content  with  a  steady  and  mod- 
erate return,  if  he  would  know  the  blessedness  of  a  cheer- 
ful heart,  and  the  sweetness  of  a  walk  over  the  round  earth. 
This  is  a  lesson  the  American  has  yet  to  learn,  —  capability 
of  amusement  on  a  low  key. 


yohn  Burroughs. 


One  always  has  time  enough,  if  one  will  apply  it  well. 

Goethe. 


September  6. 


September  may  be  described  as  the  month  of  tall  weeds. 
Where  they  have  been  suffered  to  stand,  along-  fences,  by 
roadsides,  and  in  forgotten  corners,  —  red-root,  pig-weed, 
rag-weed,  vervain,  golden-rod,  burdock,  elecampane,  this- 
tles, teasels,  nettles,  asters,  etc.,  —  how  they  lift  themselves 
up,  as  if  not  afraid  to  be  seen  now  !  They  are  all  out- 
laws ;  every  man's  hand  is  against  them ;  yet  how  surely 
they  hold  their  own  !  They  love  the  roadside  because  here 
they  are  comparatively  safe  ;  and,  ragged  and  dusty,  like 
the  common  tramps  that  they  are,  they  form  one  of  the 
characteristic  features  of  early  fall. 


yohn  Burroughs. 


And,  crowding  close  along  the  way. 
The  purple  asters  blossom  free. 

Dora  R.  Goodale. 


September  7. 


I  ASK  not  that  for  me  the  plan 

Of  good  and  ill  be  set  aside, 
But  that  the  common  lot  of  man 

Be  nobly  borne,  and  glorified. 

And  that,  though  it  be  mine  to  know 
How  hard  the  stoniest  pillow  seems, 

Good  angels  still  may  come  and  go 
About  the  places  of  my  dreams. 

Phcebe  Cary. 


What  she  suffered,  she  shook  off  in  the  sunshine. 

Mrs.  B?ownine. 


Cheerfulness  is   the  best   promoter  of  health,  and  as 
friendly  to  the  mind  as  to  the  body. 

A  ddison. 


September  8. 


"  If  a  man  will  not  work,  neither  shall  he  eat."  Nor  a 
woman  either ;  for  the  old  creed,  that  our  sex  must  always 
be  dependent  on  the  other,  has  become  a  creed  outworn. 
First,  because  there  are  not  enough  of  males  to  protect  us ; 
and  secondly,  because  many  of  them  are  quite  incapable 
of  doing  it.  Generally  speaking,  a  woman  at  any  age  out 
of  teens,  being  well  educated,  prudent,  and  possessed  of  a 
tolerable  amount  of  common  sense  and  ordinary  "gump- 
tion," can  take  care  of  herself  fully  as  well  as  any  man  can 
do  it  for  her ;  and,  except  in  the  love-phase  of  life,  —  when 
help  is  so  delicious  and  helplessness  so  sweet,  —  most  men 
prefer  a  woman  who  will  and  can  take  care  of  herself.  It 
saves  them  a  world  of  trouble. 


D.  M.  Miiloch. 


The  creed  of  the  true  saint  is,  to  make  the  best  of  life, 

and  make  the  most  of  it. 

CJiapin. 


September  9. 


Sweet,  sweet,  sweet. 

Is  the  wind's  song, 

Astir  in  the  rippled  wheat 

All  day  long. 

That  exquisite  music  calls 

The  reaper  everywhere. 

Life  and  death  must  share 

The  golden  harvest-falls. 

Master,  Consoler,  Friend, 

Make  thou  the  harvest  of  our  days 

To  fall  within  thy  ways. 

Faji7tie  R.  Feiid^re. 


God  is  glorified,  not  by  our  groans,  but  our  thanks- 
givings ;  and  all  good  thought  and  good  action  claim  a 
natural  alliance  with  good  cheer. 

E.  P.   Whipple. 


September  10. 


Can  you  suppose  there  is  any  harm  in  looking  as  cheer- 
ful, and  being  as  cheerful,  as  our  poor  circumstances  will 
permit?  Do  I  see  any  thing  in  the  way  I'm  made  which 
calls  upon  me  to  be  a  snivelling,  solemn,  whispering  chap, 
sneaking  about  as  if  I  couldn't  help  it,  and  expressing  my- 
self in  a  most  unpleasant  snuffle?     On  the  contrary,  don't 

I  see  every  reason  why  I  shouldn't  ? 

Dickens. 


"  Life    of   my  desires,"  said    Pyrocles,  "  what    is  mine, 

even   to   my  soul,  is  yours ;   but   the  secret  of  my  friend 

is  not  mine." 

Sz'r  Philip  Sidney. 


I   LAY  it   down   as   a  fact,  that,  if  all   men   knew  what 

they  say  of  one  another,  there  would  not  be  four  friends 

in  the  world. 

Pascal. 


September  11. 


In  a  tete-d-tete  conversation  with  Mrs.  Hall,  on  the 
subject  of  some  young  ladies  who  had  been  suddenly 
bereft  of  fortune,  Lady  Morgan  said,  with  an  emphatic 
wave  of  her  dear  old  green  fan,  "They  do  every  thing 
that  is  fashionable  imperfectly  :  their  singing  and  draw- 
ing and  dancing  and  languages  amount  to  nothing. 
They  were  educated  to  marry ;  and,  had  there  been  time, 
they  might  have  gone  off  with,  and  hereafter  from,  hus- 
bands. They  cannot  earn  their  own  salt :  they  do  not 
even  know  how  to  dress  themselves.  I  desire  to  give 
every  girl,  no  matter  her  rank,  a  trade,  —  a  profession  if 
that  word  pleases  you  better:  cultivate  all  things  in  mod- 
eration, but  one  thing  to  perfection,  no  matter  what  it  is, 
for  which  she  has  a  talent.  Give  her  a  staff  to  lay  hold 
of:  let  her  feel,  '  This  will  carry  me  through  life  without 
dependence.'  " 


September  12. 


People  seem  to  be  contented  with  "  pretty  good," 
"well  enough,"  "as  good  as  the  average,"  "all  that  is 
required ; "  and  they  are  apt  to  shelter  themselves  behind 
one  or  other  of  these  phrases,  if  you  try  to  arouse  them 
to  something  better.  This  weakness,  this  failure  to  come 
up  to  any  thing  more  than  what  is  merely  passable, 
seems  to  be  a  want  of  courage,  combined  with  a  want 
of  energy,  —  in  plain  language,  a  mixture  of  cowardice 
and  laziness. 

Williavi  Everett. 


Knowledge,    in   truth,  is   the   great   sun   in   the   firma- 
ment.    Life  and  power  are  scattered  with  all  its  beams. 

D.  Webster. 


September   13. 


The  morrow  was  a  bright  September  morn; 
The  earth  was  beautiful  as  if  new-born ; 
There  was  that  nameless  splendor  everywhere, 
That  wild  exhilaration  in  the  air, 
Which  makes  the  passers  in  the  city  street 
Congratulate  each  other  as  they  meet. 

Longfellow. 


Life,  we've  been  long  together, 

Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather : 

'Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear; 

Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear. 

Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 

Choose  thine  own  time. 

Say  not  "  Good-night,"  but  in  some  brighter  clime 

Bid  me  "  Good-morning." 

Mrs.  Barbauld. 


September  14. 


Dance,   dance   as   long   as   you    can :    we    must   travel 
through  life,  but  why  make  a  dead  march  of  it? 

Eliza  Cook, 


Nothing  will  supply  the  want  of  sunshine  to  peaches ; 
and,  to  make  knowledge  valuable,  you  must  have  the 
cheerfulness  of  wisdom.     Goodness  smiles  to  the  last. 

Einerson. 


Laugh  at  those  who  grumble, 
And  be  jolly  as  you  can. 

Saxe. 


Persistent  people  begin  their  success  where  others  end 

in  failure. 

Edward  Eggleston. 


September   15. 


The  Master  hath  need  of  the  reapers; 

And,  mourner,  he  calleth  to  thee. 
Come  out  of  the  valley  of  sorrow. 

Look  up  to  the  hill-tops,  and  see 
How  the  fields  of  the  harvest  are  whitening, 

How  golden  and  full  is  the  grain  : 
Oh  !  what  are  thy  wants  to  the  summons  ? 

And  what  are  thy  grief  and  thy  pain? 

Mrs.  ArchbisJiop  Tliomson. 


Be  strong,  O  heart  of  mine  ! 
Look  towards  the  light. 

Adelaide  Procter, 


I  SAY  to  thee,  be  thou  satisfied. 

Burton. 


September   16. 


Now  that  the  sun  is  gleaming  bright, 

Implore  we,  bending  low, 
That  He,  the  uncreated  Light, 

May  guide  us  as  we  go. 

Mediaval  Hymn. 


The  Lord  shall  be  thine  everlasting  light. 


Grief  is  a  tattered  tent, 

Where  through  God's  light  doth  shine. 
Who  glances  up,  at  every  rent 

Shall  catch  a  ray  divine. 

Lticy  Larcom. 


The  worst  evils  are  those  that  never  arrive. 


September   17. 


"  There  is  a  good  time  coming,  boys ; " 
And  many  a  one  has  passed ; 
For  each  has  had  his  own  good  time, 
And  will  have  to  the  last. 
Then,  do  thy  work,  while  lingers  youth 
With  freshness  on  its  brow, 
Still  mindful  of  life's  greatest  truth, 
The  best  of  times  is  now. 

Mrs,  L.  C.   IVhiton. 


Joy  is  our  duty,  glory,  health, 
The  sunshine  of  the  soul. 


Our  content  is  our  best  having. 


Young. 


Shakespeare. 


September  18. 


The  art  of  life  is  more  like  the  wrestler's  art  than  the 
dancer's  in  respect  of  this,  that  it  should  stand  ready 
and  firm  to  meet  onsets  which  are  sudden  and  unex- 
pected. 


Antoni?ms. 


The  secret  of  happiness  is,  never  to  allow  your  energies 

to  stagnate. 

Adavt  Clark. 


The  sunshine  of  life  is  made  up  of  very  little  beams  that 
are  bright  all  the  time.  To  give  up  something,  when  giving 
up  will  prevent  unhappiness ;  to  yield,  when  persisting  will 
chafe  and  fret  others ;  to  go  a  little  around  rather  than  come 
against  another ;  to  take  an  ill  look  or  a  cross  word  quietly 
rather  than  resent  or  return  it,  —  these  are  the  ways  in  which 
clouds  and  storms  are  kept  off,  and  a  pleasant  and  steady 
sunshine  secured. 


September  19. 


Once  more  the  liberal  year  laughs  out 

O'er  richer  stores  than  gems  or  gold : 
Once  more  with  harvest-song  and  shout 

Is  Nature's  bloodless  triumph  told. 
Our  common  mother  rests  and  sings, 

Like  Ruth,  among  her  garnered  sheaves  : 
Her  lap  is  full  of  goodly  things, 

Her  brow  is  bright  with  autumn  leaves. 
O  favors  every  year  made  new  ! 

O  gifts  with  rain  and  sunshine  sent ! 
The  bounty  overruns  our  due, 

The  fulness  shames  our  discontent. 
We  shut  our  eyes,  the  flowers  bloom  on ; 

We  murmur,  but  the  corn-ears  fill ; 
We  choose  the  shadow;  but  the  sun, 

That  casts  it,  shines  behind  us  still. 

VVhittier. 


September  20. 


THE   FALLEN    PINE-CONE. 

I  LIFT  thee  thus,  thou  brown  and  rugged  cone, 

Well  poised  and  high, 
Between  the  flowering  grasses  and  the  sky ; 

And,  as  sea-voices  dwell 
In  the  fine  chambers  of  the  ocean-shell, 

So  Fancy's  ear 
Within  thy  numberless,  dim  complexities 

Hath  seemed  ofttimes  to  hear 
The  imprisoned  spirits  of  all  winds  that  blow, — 
Winds  of  late  autumn  that  lamenting  moan 
Across  the  wild  sea-surges'  ebb  and  flow ; 
Storm-winds  of  winter  mellowed  to  a  sigh. 
Long-drawn  and  plaintive  ;  or  —  how  lingeringly  !- 
Soft  echoes  of  the  spring-tide's  jocund  breeze, 
Blent  with  the  summer  south  wind,  murmuring  low. 

rani  H.  Hayne. 


September  21. 


THE   TREE. 

I  LOVE  thee  when  thy  swelling  buds  appear, 
And  one  by  one  their  tender  leaves  unfold, 
As  if  the}'  knew  that  warmer  suns  were  near. 
Nor  longer  sought  to  hide  from  winter's  cold ; 
And,  when  with  darker  growth  thy  leaves  are  seen 
To  veil  from  view  the  early  robin's  nest, 
I  love  to  lie  beneath  thy  waving  screen. 
With  limbs  by  summer's  heat  and  toil  opprest ; 
And  when  the  autumn's  winds  have  stripped  thee  bare, 
And  round  thee  lies  the  smooth,  untrodden  snow, 
When  naught  is  thine  that  made  thee  once  so  fair, 
I  love  to  watch  thy  shadowy  form  below, 
And  through  thy  leafless  arms  to  look  above 
On  stars  that  brighter  beam  when  most  we  need  their  love. 

yones   Very. 


September  22. 


NEW    EVERY   MORNING. 

Every  day  is  a  fresh  beginning, 

Every  morn  is  the  world  made  new. 
You  who  are  weary  of  sorrow  and  sinning, 

Here  is  a  beautiful  hope  for  you,  — 

A  hope  for  me  and  a  hope  for  you. 

All  the  past  things  are  past  and  over, 

The  tasks  are  done,  and  the  tears  are  shed. 

Yesterday's  errors  let  yesterday  cover : 

Yesterday's  wounds,  which  smarted  and  bled, 

Are  healed  with  the  healing  which  night  has  shed. 

Yesterday  now  is  a  part  of  forever. 

Bound  up  in  a  sheaf  which  God  holds  tight, 

With  glad  days  and  sad  days  and  bad  da)'s,  which  never 
Shall  visit  us  more  with  their  bloom  and  their  blight. 
Their  fulness  of  sunshine,  or  sorrowful  night. 

Let  them  go,  since  we  cannot  relive  them, 

Cannot  undo,  and  cannot  atone  ; 
God  in  his  mercy  receive,  forgive  them  : 

Only  the  new  days  are  our  own  ; 

To-day  is  ours,  and  to-day  alone. 

Susan  Coolidire. 


September  23. 


And  yet  thou  canst  not  know, 
And  yet  thou  canst  not  see  : 
Wisdom  and  signs  are  slow 

In  poor  humanity. 
If  thou  couldst  trust,  poor  soul ! 
In  Him  who  rules  the  whole, 

Thou  wouldst  find  peace  and  rest. 
Wisdom  and  sight  are  well,  but  trust  is  best. 

Adelaide  A.  Procter, 


All  are  not  taken  !  there  are  left  behind 
Living  beloveds,  tender  looks  to  bring, 
And  make  the  daylight  still  a  happy  thing, 

And  tender  voices,  to  make  soft  the  wind. 

E.  B.  Browniinr. 


September  24. 


THE    PRINCE. 

September  waves  his  golden-rod 

Along  the  lanes  and  hollows, 
And  saunters  round  the  sunny  fields 

A-playing  with  the  swallows. 

The  corn  has  listened  for  his  step ; 

The  maples  blush  to  greet  him ; 
And  gay,  coquetting  Sumach  dons 

Her  velvet  cloak  to  meet  him. 

Come  to  the  hearth,  O  merry  Prince  ! 

With  flaming  knot  and  ember : 
For  all  your  tricks  of  fros'.y  eves, 

We  love  your  ways,  September  ! 

Ellen  Mackay  Hutchinson. 


September  25. 


SEPTEMBER,   1815. 

While  not  a  loaf  scorns  fadoil,  while  the  fields, 

With  ripening  harvests  prodigally  fair, 

In  brightest  sunshine  bask,  this  nipping  air. 

Sent  from  some  distant  clime  where  Winter  wields 

His  icy  cimeter,  a  foretaste  yields 

Of  bitter  change,  and  bids  the  flowers  beware, 

And  whispers  to  the  silent  birds,  "Prepare 

Against  the  threatening  (oc  your  trustiest  shields." 

For  me,  who,  under  kindlier  laws,  belong 

To  Nature's  tuneful  choir,  this  rusUing  dry, 

Through  the  green  leaves,  and  yon  crystalline  sky, 

Announce  a  season  potent  to  renew, 

'Mid  frost  and  snow,  the  instinctive  joys  of  song. 

And  nobler  cares  than  lisdess  summer  knew. 

IVi/liam   IVordsworth. 


September  26. 


There  is  a  large  class  of  people  who  deem  the  busi- 
ness of  life  far  too  weighty  and  momentous  to  be  made 
light  of;  who  would  leave  merriment  to  children,  and 
laughter  to  idiots ;  and  who  hold  that  a  joke  would  be  as 
much  out  of  place  on  their  lips  as  on  a  gravestone  or  in 
a  ledger.  Wit  and  wisdom  being  sisters,  they  are  afraid 
of  being  indicted  for  bigamy  were  they  to  wed  them 
both  ! 


A)xJidcacon  Hare. 


Put   not  your  trust   in   money,  but   put  your  money  in 

trust. 

Holmes. 


Thou  art  in  the  end  what  thou  art.  Put  on  wigs  with 
millions  of  curls,  set  thy  foot  upon  ell-high  rocks,  thou 
abidest  ever  —  what  thou  art. 

Goethe. 


'Tis  more  brave 
To  live  than  to  die. 

Owen  Meredith. 


If  Poverty  is   the   mother  of  crimes,  want   of  sense   is 

the  father. 

De  la  Bniycre. 


Dogmatism  is  puppyism  come  to  its  full  growth. 

Doiii^las  ycrrold. 


[Queen]  Mary  had  a  way  of  interrupting  tattle  about 
elopements,  duels,  and  play  debts,  by  asking  the  tattlers, 
very  quietly  yet  significantly,  whether  tliey  had  ev'er  read 
her  favorite  sermon.  Dr.  Tillotson's,  on  Evil  Speaking. 

Lord  Macaulay. 


September  28. 


There  is  infinite  talk  of  the  dissipated  illusions  of  youth, 
the  paling  of  bright  young  dreams.  Life,  it  is  said,  turns 
out  to  be  different  from  what  it  was  pictured.  The  rosy- 
hued  morning  fades  away  into  the  gray  and  livid  evening, 
the  black  and  ghastly  night.  I  do  not  believe  this  is  the 
general  experience.  It  surely  should  not  be  —  it  need  not 
be.  I  have  found  things  a  great  deal  better  than  I  ex- 
pected. 


Atlantic  Monthly,  i86j. 


I  ASK  you  to  look  out  for  the  sunlight  the  Lord  sends 

into  your  days. 

Hope  Campbell. 


Those  who  live   in   the   Lord  never  see  each  other  for 

the  last  time. 

German  Motto. 


September  29. 


Jack  Frost  came  down  last  night. 

He  slid  to  the  earth  on  a  starbeam,  keen  and  sparkling  and 
bright. 

He  sought  in  the  grass  for  the  crickets  with  delicate,  icy- 
spear, 

So  sharp  and  fine  and  fatal,  and  he  stabbed  tliem  far  and 
near. 

Only  a  few  stout  fellows,  thawed  by  the  morning  sun, 

Chirrup  a  mournful  echo  of  by-gone  frolic  and  fun. 

Celia   Thaxter. 


To  be  impatient  at  the  death  of  a  person  concerning 
whom  it  was  certain  he  must  die,  is  to  mourn  because 
thy  friend  was  not  born  an  angel. 

Jeremy   Taylor. 


September  30. 


WHEN    MY    SHIP   COMES    IN. 

For  summer  and  winter  are  one  to  me, 

And  the  day  is  bright,  be  it  storm  or  shine ; 
For  far  away,  o'er  a  sunny  sea, 

Sails  a  treasure-vessel,  and  all  is  mine. 
I  see  the  ripples  that  fall  away. 

As  she  cleaves  the  azure  waves  before ; 
And  nearer,  nearer,  day  by  day, 

Draws  the  happy  hour  when  she  comes  to  shore. 

"But  what  if  she  never  comes?"  you  say, 

"  If  you  never  the  honor,  the  treasure,  gain?" 
It  has  made  me  happier  day  by  day. 

It  has  eased  full  many  an  aching  pain, 
It  has  kept  the  spirit  from  envy  free. 

Has  dulled  the  ear  to  the  world's  rude  din. 
Oh  !  best  of  blessings  it's  been  to  me. 

To  look  for  the  hour  when  my  ship  comes  in. 

Edward  S.  Raiid. 


October  1. 


OCTOBER. 


Ay,  thou  art  welcome,  Heaven's  delicious  breath, 
When  woods  begin  to  wear  the  crimson  leaf. 
And  suns  grow  meek,  and  the  meek  suns  grow  brief, 

And  the  year  smiles  as  it  draws  near  its  death. 

Wind  of  the  sunny  South,  oh  !  still  delay 
In  the  gay  woods  and  in  the  golden  air, 
Like  to  a  good  old  age  released  from  care, 

Journeying,  in  long  serenity,  away. 

In  such  a  bright,  late  quiet,  would  that  I 

Might  wear  out  life  like  thee,  'mid  bowers  and  brooks. 
And,  dearer  yet,  the  sunshine  of  kind  looks. 

And  music  of  kind  voices  ever  nigh. 
And,  when  my  last  sand  twinkled  in  the  glass, 
Pass  silently  from  men,  as  thou  dost  pass. 

William  C.  Bryant. 


October  2. 

Two  persons  took  trouble  in  vain,  and  used  fruitless 
endeavors,  —  he  who  acquired  wealth  without  enjoying  it, 
and  he  who  taught  wisdom  but  did  not  practise  it.  How 
much  soever  you  may  study  science,  when  you  do  not  act 
wisely  you  are  ignorant.  The  beast  whom  they  load  with 
books  is  not  profoundly  learned  and  wise  :  what  knovveth 
his  empty  skull  whether  he  carrieth  firewood  or  books? 

Sadi. 


Sorrow  itself  is  not  so  hard  to  bear  as  the  thought  of 
sorrow  coming.  Airy  ghosts  that  work  no  harm  do  terrify 
us  more  than  men  in  steel  with  bloody  purposes. 

T.  B.  Aldrich. 


It  is  a  part  of  my  religion  not  to  hurt  any  man's  feelings, 

\V.  D.  Howard. 


October  3. 

Spring  is  the  inspiration,  fall  the  expiration.  Both  sea- 
sons have  their  equinoxes,  both  their  filmy,  hazy  air,  their 
ruddy  forest  tints,  their  cold  rains,  their  drenching  fogs, 
their  mystic  moons ;  both  have  the  same  solar  light  and 
warmth,  the  same  rays  of  the  sun ;  yet,  after  all,  how  dif- 
ferent the  feelings  which  they  inspire  !  One  is  the  morn- 
ing, the  other  the  evening  :  one  is  youth,  the  other  is  age. 

yoliji  Burroughs. 

O  HAPPY  day,  returned  once  more, 

With  golden  plenty  still  replete  ! 
As  though  she  never  gave  before. 

Earth  pours  her  treasures  at  our  feet. 

More  rich  than  Autumn's  robe  of  leaves 
Should  be  the  garments  of  our  praise. 

And  ampler  than  her  ample  sheaves 
The  charities  that  crown  our  days. 

Harriet  M.  Kimball. 


October  4. 

God's  finger-touch  is  on  the  hills : 

The  leaves  beneath  it  gleam  and  glow, 

Till  the  strange  splendor  overfills 

Their  trembling  life,  and  lays  them  low. 

So  ardent  souls,  by  life  divine 
Enkindled,  light  our  gloomy  day, 

A  little  while  before  us  shine. 

Then,  spent  with  glory,  pass  away. 


There  is  only  one  stimulant  that  never  fails,  and  yet 
never  intoxicates,  —  Duty.  Duty  puts  a  blue  sky  over 
every  man,  —  up  in  his  heart,  maybe,  —  into  which  the 
skylark,  happiness,  always  goes  singing. 

G.  D.  Prentice. 


October  5. 

Though  a  gem  be  worn  on  the  feet,  and  glass  on  the 

head,  yet  glass  is  glass,  and  a  gem  a  gem. 

Hindu. 


Grief   is   always   conceited.     It   always   thinks   its  case 
peculiar  and  unmatched. 

Beecher. 


Smile  not  at  the  legend  as  vain,  that  once  in  holy  hands 
a  worthless  stone  became  a  heap  of  silver.  Let  thy  alche- 
mist be  contentment,  and  stone  or  ore  shall  be  equal  to 

thee. 

Persian. 

All  acts  performed  under  a  false  guise  are  paths  lead- 
ing to  death. 

Hindu. 


October  6. 

Eve   was   the   first  woman   who  gathered   leaves  during 
the  fall. 


Build  a  little  fence  of  trust 

Around  to-day : 
Fill  the  space  with  loving  work, 

And  therein  stay. 
Peer  not  through  the  sheltering  bars, 

At  to-morrow : 
God  will  help  thee  bear  what  comes 

Of  joy  or  sorrow. 


Mrs,  M.  F.  Butts. 


When  Eve  upon  the  first  of  men 

The  apple  pressed  with  specious  cant, 

Oh,  what  a  thousand  pities  then 
That  Adam  was  not  Adamant ! 

T/iomas  Hood. 


October  7. 

May  we  look  among  the  band  of  ministering  spirits  for 
our  own  departed  ones  ?  Whom  would  God  be  more  likely 
to  send  us?  Have  we  in  heaven  a  friend  who  knew  us 
to  the  heart's  core,  —  a  friend  to  wliom  we  have  unfolded 
our  soul  in  its  secret  recesses,  to  whom  we  have  confessed 
our  weaknesses  and  deplored  our  griefs?  If  we  are  to 
have  a  ministering  spirit,  who  better  adapted?  Have  we 
not  memories  which  correspond  to  such  a  belief  ?  .  .  . 

Many  a  one,  we  are  confident,  can  remember  such 
things ;  and  whence  come  they  ?  Why  do  the  children  of 
the  pious  mother,  whose  grave  has  grown  green  and  smooth 
with  years,  seem  often  to  walk  through  perils  and  dangers 
fearful  and  imminent  as  the  crossing  Mohammed's  fiery 
gulf  on  the  edge  of  a  drawn  sword,  yet  walk  unhurt?  Ah  ! 
could  we  see  that  attendant  form,  that  face  where  the  angel 
conceals  not  tlie  mother,  our  question  would  be  answered 

Mrs.  H.  B.  Stontfc. 


October  8. 


THE     TRUE     WIFE. 


Oftentimes  I  have  seen  a  tall  ship  glide  by  against  the 
tide  as  if  drawn  by  some  invisible  bowline,  with  a  hundred 
strong  arms  pulling  it.  Her  sails  were  unfilled,  her  stream- 
ers were  drooping,  she  had  neither  side-wheel  nor  stern- 
wheel  ;  still  she  moved  on  stately,  in  serene  triumph,  as 
with  her  own  life.  But  I  knew,  that  on  the  other  side  of 
the  ship,  hidden  beneath  the  great  bulk  that  swam  so  majes- 
tically, there  was  a  little  toilsome  steam-tug,  with  a  heart  of 
fire  and  arms  of  iron,  that  was  tugging  it  bravely  on ;  and 
I  knew,  if  the  little  steam-tug  untwined  her  arm,  and  left 
the  ship,  it  would  wallow  and  roll  about,  and  drift  hither 
and  thither,  and  go  off  with  the  refluent  tide,  no  man  knows 
whither.  And  so  I  have  known  more  than  one  genius,  high- 
docked,  full-freighted,  idle-sailed,  gay-pennoned,  but  that 
for  the  bare,  toiling  arms,  and  brave,  warm-beating  heart  of 
the  faithful  little  wife,  that  nestles  close  to  him,  so  that  no 
wind  or  wave  could  part  them,  would  have  gone  down  with 
the  stream,  and  have  been  heard  of  no  more. 

O.  IV.  Holmes. 


October  9. 

Would  you  not  think  that  a  splendid  sunset  had  fallen 
down  in  fragments  on  the  isle  called  Beautiful,  and  set  it 
all  a-blaze?  The  woods  are  on  fire,  yet  they  burn  not; 
Beauty  subdues  the  flame ;  and  there,  as  in  a  many-tinted 
tabernacle,  has  Color  pitched  his  royal  residence,  and  reigns 
in  glory  beyond  that  of  any  Oriental  king. 

Christopher  North. 

Strength  is  promised  according  to  your  day,  but  not 
according  to  your  morrow. 


Cardinal  Newman  says,  "  It  is  almost  a  definition  of  a 
gentleman  to  say  he  is  one  who  never  inflicts  pain."  If 
the  cardinal  is  correct,  and  can  prove  his  statement,  it  is 
pretty  rough  on  the  dentists.  We  are  sorry  for  those  excel- 
lent men,  but  that  definition  lets  them  clear  out. 

Bnidctt. 


October  lO. 


There's  many  a  trouble 

Would  break  like  a  bubble, 
And  into  the  waters  of  Lethe  depart, 

Did  we  not  rehearse  it, 

And  tenderly  nurse  it, 
And  give  it  a  permanent  place  in  the  heart. 

There's  many  a  sorrow 

Would  vanish  to-morrow, 
Were  we  but  willing  to  furnish  the  wings : 

So  sadly  intruding, 

And  quietly  brooding, 
It  hatches  all  sorts  of  horrible  things. 

Tins  ley's  Magazine. 


A  WIDE-SPREADING,  hopcful  disposition  is  your  only  true 
umbiella  in  this  vale  of  tears. 

T.  B.  Aldrich. 


October  11. 

For  myself  I  made  an  excuse  for  poor  Anna,  knowing 
slie  supports  upon  her  head  the  ivoi'7-y-pole.  I  dare  say 
people  do  not  know  generally  what  this  infliction  is ; 
although  they  themselves  probably  bear  one  always  about 
witli  them,  sprouting  out  of  their  brains. 

An  Art  Student  in  Mujtich. 


I  DO  not  wonder  at  the  superstition  of  the  ancient 
Magians,  who,  in  the  morning  of  the  world,  went  up  to 
the  hill-tops  of  Central  Asia,  and,  ignorant  of  the  true 
God,  adored  the  most  glorious  work  of  his  hand.  But  I 
am  filled  with  amazement,  when  I  am  told,  that  in  this 
enlightened  age,  and  in  the  heart  of  the  Christian  world, 
there  are  persons  who  can  witness  this  daily  manifestation 
of  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Creator,  and  yet  say 
in  their  hearts,  "  There  is  no  God." 

Edward  E^'cro**. 


October  12. 

Sculptors  of  life  are  we,  as  we  stand, 

With  our  souls  uncarved  before  us, 
Waiting  the  hour  when  at  God's  command, 

Our  life-dream  passes  o'er  us. 
If  we  carve  it  yet  on  the  yielding  stone. 

With  many  a  sharp  incision, 
Its  heavenly  beauty  shall  be  our  own. 

Our  lives,  —  that  angel  vision. 

Bishop  Doane. 


There  is  a  beautiful  spirit  breathing  now 
Its  mellow  richness  on  the  clustered  trees, 
And,  from  a  beaker  full  of  richest  d3'es, 
Pouring  new  glory  on  the  autumn  woods. 

Lcngfellow. 


October  13. 


AUTUMN   SONG. 

Red  leaf,  gold  leaf, 

Flutter  down  the  wind : 
Life  is  brief,  oh  !  life  is  brief. 
But  Mother  Earth  is  kind ; 
From  her  dear  bosom  ye  shall  spring 
To  new  blossoming. 

The  red  leaf,  the  gold  leaf, 
They  have  had  their  way ; 
Love  is  long  if  life  be  brief,  — 
Life  is  but  a  day ; 
And  Love  from  Grief  and  Death  shall  spring 
To  new  blossoming. 

Ellen  Mackay  HiitcJiitison, 


October  14. 


"And  there  shall  be  no  night  there;  and  they  need  no 
candle,  neither  light  of  the  sun." 


Religion  is  a  cheerful  thing :  so  far  from  being   always 

at   cuffs   with   good-humor,   that    it   is    inseparably   united 

to  it. 

Marquis  of  Halifax, 


Is  Christ  in  us?  be  ours  the  glorious  dower, 

To  show  the  Saviour  shining  in  our  face, 
And,  through  our  eyes  forth-putting  his  sweet  power, 

To  help  the  weak  and  wayward  with  his  grace : 

Oh  !  let  not  sin  in  us  those  windows  dim. 

Through   which    the   world  might   catch  some  glimpse  of 

him. 

R.  Wilton. 


October  15. 


My  heart  glows  with  hope  for  the  welfare  of  man ; 

I  pray  for  my  fellows,  and  help  when  I  can ; 
I  see  through  the  distance  of  ages  to  be, 
The  many  grown  wiser,  made  happy  and  free, 

When  Jones,  interrupting,  says,  "  Man  is  a  knave, 

And,  if  not  a  tyrant,  a  fool  or  a  slave." 

I  answer,  "There's  kind  human  flesh  on  my  bones 
Get  out  of  my  sunshine,  cadaverous  Jones." 

Charles  Mackay. 


We  rise  by  things  that  are  'neath  our  feet, 
By  what  we  have  mastered  of  good  and  gain, 
By  the  pride  deposed  and  passion  slain. 

And  the  vanquished  ills  that  we  hourly  meet. 

J.  G.  Hclland. 


October  16. 


COURTESY. 

William  Wirt's  letter  to  his  daughter  on  the  "small, 
sweet  courtesies  of  life,"  contains  a  passage  from  which  a 
deal  of  happiness  might  be  learned  :  "  I  want  to  tell  you 
a  secret.  The  way  to  make  yourself  pleasing  to  others,  is 
to  show  that  you  care  for  them.  The  world  is  like  the 
miller  at  Mansfield,  '  who  cared  for  nobody,  no,  not  he, 
because  nobody  cared  for  him.'  And  the  whole  world 
will  serve  you  so  if  you  give  them  the  same  cause.  Let 
every  one,  therefore,  see  that  you  do  care  for  them,  by 
showing  them  what  Sterne  so  happily  calls  '  the  small, 
sweet  courtesies,'  in  which  there  is  no  parade ;  whose 
voice  is  to  still,  to  ease ;  and  which  manifest  themselves 
by  tender  and  affectionate  looks,  and  little  kind  acts  of 
attention,  giving  others  the  preference  in  every  little 
enjoyment  at  the  table,  in  the  field,  walking,  sitting,  or 
standin;:." 


October  17. 

There  are  no  times  in  life  when  opportunity,  the 
chance  to  be  and  do,  gathers  so  richly  about  the  soul  as 
when  it  has  to  suffer.  Then  every  thing  depends  on 
whether  the  man  turns  to  the  lower  or  the  higher  helps. 
If  he  resorts  to  mere  expedients  and  tricks,  the  opportu- 
nity is  lost.  He  comes  out  no  richer  nor  greater;  nay, 
he  comes  out  harder,  poorer,  smaller,  for  his  pain.  But, 
if  he  turns  to  God,  the  hour  of  suffering  is  the  turning- 
hour  of  his  Hfe. 

Pliillips  Brooks 

What  is  mind?     No  matter. 
What  is  matter?     Never  mind. 
What  is  soul?     It  is  immaterial. 


Many  people  find  their  only  happiness  in  forcing  them- 
selves to  be  unhappy. 


October  18. 


October  glows  on  every  cheek, 

October  shines  in  every  eye ; 
While  up  the  hill  and  down  the  dale 

Her  crimson  banners  fly. 

Elaine  Goodale. 


Cheerfulness  in  large  doses  is  the  best  medicine  one 

can  take  along  in  his  out-door  tramps. 

J.  T.  Fields. 


Next   to    the    rhinoceros,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world 
armed  like  a  woman.     And  she  knows  it. 

yerrold. 


The   October   day  is  a  dream,  bright   and   beautiful   as 
the  rainbow,  and  as  brief  and  fugitive. 

W.  H.  Gibson. 


October  19. 


Of  all  the   bores   whom   man   in    his    folly  hesitates   to 

hang,   and    Heaven   in   its   mysterious   wisdom    suffers   to 

propagate   their  species,  the   most  insufferable  is  the  teller 

of  "good  stories." 

De  Quincey. 


An    opportunity   is   like   a   pin   in   the   sweepings :    you 

catch   sight   of  it  just  as  it  flies  away  from  yju,  and  gets 

buried  again. 

Mrs.   Whitti£y. 


Coin^  each  affliction,  whether  light  or  grave, 
God's  messenger  sent  down  to  thee. 

Aubrey  de  Vere. 


October  20. 


We  often  fail  by  searching  far  and  wide 

For  what  lies  close  at  hand.     To  serve  our  turn 

We  ask  fair  wind  and  favorable  tide  : 

From  the  dead  Danish  sculptor  let  us  learn 

To  make  occasion  not  to  be  denied. 

Against  the  sheer,  precipitous  mountain  side, 
Thorwaldsen  carved  his  lion  of  Lucerne. 


There  is  many  a  thmg  which  the  world  calls  disap- 
pointment, but  there  is  no  such  word  in  the  dictionary 
of  faith.  What  to  others  are  disappointments  are  to 
behevers  intimations  of  the  will  of  God. 

N^ewton. 


Most  of  our  comforts  grow  up  between  crosses. 


October  21. 


We  can  never  go  back,  but  there  is  not  a  point  from 
which  we  may  not  go  upward. 


Man  without  rehgion  is  the  creature  of  circumstances ; 
but  religion  is  above  all  circumstances,  and  will  lift  him 
up  above  them. 

Archdeacon  Hare. 


We  can  never  be  too  careful 

What  the  seed  our  hands  shall  sow : 
Love  from  love  is  sure  to  ripen, 

Hate  from  hate  is  sure  to  grow. 
Seed  of  good  or  ill  we  scatter 

Heedlessly  along  our  way, 
But  a  glad  or  grievous  fruitage 

Waits  us  at  the  harvest  day. 


October  22. 


Dear  reader,  in  a  world  made  by  a  loving  Father,  we 
are  all  of  us  children  of  good-fortune,  if  we  only  have  wit 
enough  to  find  it  out  as  we  stroll  along. 

E.  E.  Hale. 


SCATTER   BLESSINGS    ROUND. 

Sure  they  of  many  blessings 

Should  scatter  many  blessings  round, 
As  laden  boughs  in  autumn  fling 

Their  ripe  fruit  to  the  ground. 


If  God  made  the  world,  you  need  not  fear  that  he  can't 
take  care  of  so  small  a  part  as  yourself.  It  is  better,  there- 
fore, to  trust  than  to  grumble. 


October  23. 


But  it  may  be,  in  a  diviner  air 

Transfigured  and  made  pure, 

The  harvest  that  we  deemed  as  wholly  lost, 

Waits  perfect  and  mature ; 

And  the  faint  heart,  that  now  defeated  grieves, 

May  yet  stand  smiling  'mid  abundant  sheaves. 

Mary  L.  Ritter. 


A  SACRED  burden  is  this  life  ye  bear: 
Look  on  it,  lift  it,  bear  it  solemnly, 
Stand  up  and  walk  beneath  it  steadfastly. 
Fail  not  for  sorrow,  falter  not  for  sin. 
But  onward,  upward,  till  the  goal  ye  win. 

Frances  Ketnble. 


October  24. 


In  this  the  art  of  living  lies  : 

To  want  no  more  than  may  suffice, 

And  make  that  little  do. 


Cotton. 


The  gods  give  nothing  really  good  and  beautiful  without 

labor  and  diligence. 

XenopJion. 


Many  persons  sigh  for  death  when  it  seems  far  off;  but 
the  inclination  vanishes  when  the  boat  upsets,  or  the  loco- 
motive runs  off  the  track,  or  the  measles  set  in. 

T.  IV.  Ili'^niison. 


There  never  comes  a  shadow 
That  the  sunshine  hath  not  made. 


October  25. 


It  takes  a  touch  of  adversity  to  show  whether  a  man  is 
a  man  at  all,  just  as  it  needs  the  touch  of  frost  to  bring 
out  the  glories  of  the  trees.  Even  on  a  dark  day  in  Octo- 
ber, how  royally  the  woods  flame  out !  Under  what  glorious 
banners  they  march  to  meet  the  winter  !  \Vhat  unmatclied 
splendors,  rich  as  sunset  skies,  tender  as  the  rainbow,  shine 
out  over  the  whole  earth  !  Those  splendors  are  the  treas- 
ures that  the  trees  were  silently  laying  up  when  the  sum- 
mer's sun  flooded  them  all  day  long ;  and  shall  a  man  in 
his  time  of  prosperity  lay  up  no  store  of  sunshine  in  his 
inner  self,  whereby,  when  darker  days  come  on,  he  shall 
be  luminous  with  courage  and  good  cheer  ? 


One  of  those  October  days,  when  to  breathe  the  air  is 
like  drinking  wine,  and  every  touch  of  the  wind  against 
one's  face  is  a  caress ;  you  have  a  sense  of  companion- 
ship ;  it  is  a  day  that  loves  you. 

Sara/i  ycwett. 


October  26. 


There  is  one  sin  which,  it  seems  to  me,  is  everywhere  and 
by  everybody  underestimated,  tolerated  with  undue  toler- 
ance, and  quite  too  much  overlooked  in  our  valuations  of 
character.     It  is  the  sin  of  fretting. 

He  who  frets  is  never  the  one  who  mends.  And  when 
the  fretter  is  one  who  is  beloved,  whose  nearness  of  relation 
to  us  makes  his  fretting  at  the  weather  seem  almost  like  a 
personal  reproach  to  us,  then  the  misery  of  it  becomes 
indeed  insupportable.  Most  men  call  fretting  a  minor 
fault,  —  a  foible,  and  not  a  vice. 

There  is  no  vice,  except  drunkenness,  which  can  so 
utterly  destroy  the  peace,  the  happiness,  of  a  home. 

H.  H. 


It  takes  a  heroine  to  be  economical. 

Miss  Muloch. 


October  27. 


The  hills  are  bright  with  maples  yet; 

But  down  the  level  land 
The  beech-leaves  rustle  in  the  wind, 

As  dry  and  brown  as  sand. 
The  clouds  in  bars  of  rusty  red 

Along  the  hill-tops  glow; 

And  in  the  still,  sharp  air  the  frost 

Is  like  a  dream  of  snow. 

Alice  Cary. 

Fire  !  fire  !  upon  the  maple-bough 

The  red  flames  of  the  frost. 
Fire  1  fire  !  by  burning  woodbine,  see, 

The  cottage-roof  is  crossed. 
The  hills  are  hid  by  smoky  haze ; 
Look,  how  the  roadside  sumachs  blaze ; 
And  on  the  withered  leaves  below, 
The  fallen  leaves  like  bonfires  glow. 

Marian  Douglas. 


October  28. 


MY     CREED. 

I  HOLD  that  Christian  grace  abounds 
Where  charity  is  seen ;  that  when 

We  cHmb  to  heaven,  'tis  on  the  rounds 
Of  love  to  men. 

'Tis  not  the  wide  phylactery, 

Nor  stubborn  fast,  nor  stated  prayers. 
That  make  us  saints  :  we  judge  the  tree 

By  what  it  bears. 

And  when  a  man  can  live  apart 
From  works,  on  theologic  trust, 

I  know  the  blood  about  his  heart 
Is  dry  as  dust. 


Alice  Cary. 


October  29. 


A   GOOD   heart  is  the  sun  and  the   moon,  —  or,  rather, 
the  sun ;  for  it  shines  bright,  and  never  changes. 

Shakespeare. 


"  Lawics  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Partington,  "  what  monsters 
these  master-builders  must  be  !  I  am  told  some  on  'em 
have  as  many  as  a  hundred  hands  !  " 


"Tommy,"  said  a  mother  to  her  seven-year-old  boy,  "you 
must  not  interrupt  me  when  I  am  talking  with  ladies.  You 
must  wait  till  we  stop,  and  then  you  can  talk." 

"  But  you  never  stop,"  retorted  the  boy. 


October  30. 


No  sorrow  upon  the  landscape  weighs, 
No  grief  for  the  vanished  summer  days, 
But  a  sense  of  peaceful  and  calm  repose, 
Like  that  which  age  in  its  autumn  knows. 

The  spring-time  longings  are  past  and  gone, 
The  passions  of  summer  no  longer  are  known, 
The  harvest  is  gathered ;  and  Autumn  stands 
Serenely  thoughtful,  with  folded  hands. 

O  glorious  autumn  !  thus  serene. 

Thus  living,  and  loving  all  that  has  been  1 

Thus  calm  and  contented  let  me  be 

When  the  autumn  of  age  shall  come  to  me. 

A  non. 


October  31. 


Bright  yellow,  red,  and  orange, 

The  leaves  come  down  in  hosts ; 
The  trees  are  Indian  princes, 

But  soon  they'll  turn  to  ghosts; 
The  leathery  pears  and  apples 

Hang  russet  on  the  bough  : 
It's  autumn,  autumn,  autumn  late ; 

'Twill  soon  be  winter  now. 

William  Allinsham. 


In  the  clime  of  the  spirit  alone,  Love  ! 

Life's  seasons  are  darksome  or  bright. 
Encompassed  with  joy,  like  the  sunshine. 

Or  shadowed  with  grief,  like  the  night ! 

Paul  H.  Hayne. 


November  1. 


No  warmth,  no  cheerfulness,  no  healthy  ease, 

No  comfortable  feel  in  any  member. 
No  shade,  no  shine,  no  butterflies,  no  bees, 
No  fruits,  no  flowers,  no  leaves,  no  birds, 
November  ! 


Our  grand  business  is,  not  to  see  what  lies  dimly  at  a 
distance,  but  to  do  what  lies  clearly  at  hand. 

Carlyle. 


It  is  well ! 
God's  ways  are  always  right ; 
And  love  is  o'er  them  all. 
Though  far  above  our  sic;ht.. 


November  2. 

Wrung  with  barren  grief,  November  lies, 
An  angry  tumult  raging  in  her  brain, 

Catching  her  broken  breath  in  shuddering  sighs, 
With  clenched  hands,  tossing  in  convulsive  pain. 

Elaine  Goodale. 


There  are  nettles  everywhere, 
But  smooth  green  grasses  are  more  common  still 
The  blue  of  heaven  is  larger  than  the  cloud. 

Mrs.  Brownins'. 


Enjoy  the  present  hour,  be  thankful  for  the  past. 
And  neither  fear  nor  wish  the  approaches  of  the  last 

Cowley. 


November  3. 


Why  not  adopt  from  Japan,  with  her  pottery  and  her 
more  trivial  quaintnesses,  that  poetic  siniphcity  which 
makes  yearly  holidays  of  the  "flower-viewing"?  It  is 
easy,  amid  the  hills,  to  mark  the  season  with  flowers. 
Nay,  we  need  but  lend  our  eyes,  and  they  themselves 
will_  gently  lead  us  on.  Unbidden  they  come.  Fiom  the 
arbutus,  awakening  from  her  winter-sleeping  buds,  purer 
by  contrast  with  the  rusted  evergreen  of  her  leaves ;  the 
apple-blossoms,  nature's  bounty,  though  man's  possession  ; 
the  mountain  laurel,  flushing  the  very  highest  hill-tops ; 
the  gay  field-flowers,  daisies  and  buttercups,  and  nodding 
spikes  of  airy  purple  grasses ;  the  lilies,  of  the  field  and 
of  the  wood,  —  on  to  the  innumerable  clouds  of  the 
asters,  and  the  utter  lavishness  of  golden-rod, — there  is 
scarcely  a  pause.  For  these  are  but  a  few :  their  name 
is  legion ;  and  scarcely  can  one  choose  between  them, 
save  that  we  love  the  best  the  one  that  is  here. 

When  the  fringed  gentian  lifts  her  eye  to  heaven  in 
still,  secluded  spots  amid  the  woods,  a  summer  will  have 
come  and  gone. 

D.  H.  R.  Goodale. 


November  4. 


'"  What  shall  I  do  to  be  forever  known  ?  " 

Thy  duty  ever. 
"This  did  full  many  who  yet  sleep  unknown." 

Oh,  never,  never  ! 
Think'st  thou  perchance  that  they  remain  unknown 

Whom  thou  know'st  not  ? 
By  angel  trumps  in  heaven  their  praise  is  blown ; 

Divine  their  lot. 

"  What  shall  I  do  to  gain  eternal  life  ? 

Discharge  aright 
The  simple  dues  with  which  each  day  is  rife  ?" 

Yea,  with  thy  might. 
Ere  perfect  scheme  of  action  thou  devise 

Will  life  be  fled ; 
AVhile  he  who  ever  acts  as  conscience  cries. 

Shall  live,  though  dead. 

Schiller. 


November  5. 


And  should  the  twihght  darken  into  night, 

And  sorrow  grow  to  anguish,  be  thou  strong ; 

Thou  art  in  God,  and  nothing  can  go  wrong 
Which  a  fresh  life-pulse  cannot  set  aright : 
That  thou  dost  know  the  darkness,  proves  the  light. 

Weep  if  thou  wilt,  but  weep  not  all  too  long ; 

Or  weep  and  work,  for  work  will  lead  to  song. 


And  do  not  fear  to  hope. 


Each  time  we  smell  the  autumn's  dying  scent. 
We  know  the  primrose  time  will  come  again  : 
Not  more  we  hope,  nor  less  would  soothe  our  pain. 

Be  bounteous  in  thy  faith,  for  not  misspent 

Is  confidence  unto  the  Father  lent : 

Thy  need  is  sown  and  rooted  for  his  rain. 

Work  on.     One  day,  beyond  all  thoughts  of  praise, 
A  sunny  joy  will  crown  thee  with  its  rays,  — 
No  other  than  thy  need,  thy  recompense. 

Geonre  Macdonald. 


November  6. 


TO     THE     FRINGED     GENTIAN. 

Thou  waitest  late,  and  com'st  alone, 
When  woods  are  bare,  and  birds  are  flown, 
And  frosts  and  shortening  days  portend 
The  aged  year  is  near  its  end. 

Then  doth  thy  sweet  and  quiet  eye 
Look  through  its  fringes  to  the  sky. 
Blue,  blue  as  if  that  sky  let  fall 
A  flower  from  its  cerulean  wall. 

I  would  that  thus,  when  I  shall  see 
The  hour  of  death  draw  near  to  me, 
Hope,  blossoming  within  my  heart. 
May  look  to  heaven  as  I  depart. 

Bryant. 


November  7. 


THE     FEAST-TIME     OF     THE     YEAR. 

This  is  the  feast-time  of  tlie  year, 

Wlien  hearts  grow  warmer,  and  home  more  dear; 

When  autumn's  crimson  torch  expires, 

To  flash  again  in  winter  fires ; 

And  they  who  tracked  October's  flight, 

In  charmed  circle  sit  and  praise 

The  goodly  logs'  triumphant  blaze. 

HaiTtct  McEwen  Kimball. 


We  have  had  a  slight  frost,  the  first  tender  touch  of  Win- 
ter's jewelled  finger  :  a  premonition,  —  no  more.  How 
kindly  the  old  dame  moves  in  the  country  —  how  orderly  ! 
How  cleverly  she  lays  every  thing  to  sleep,  and  then  folds 
over  all  her  delicate  drapery  ! 

F.  S.  Cozzens. 


November  8. 


'Tis  the  Sabbath-rest 
Of  Nature  ere  she  yields  to  Winter's  power. 

Street. 


Better  to  weave  in  the  web  of  hfe 

A  bright  and  golden  filling, 

And  to  do  God's  will  with  a  ready  heart, 

And  hands  that  are  ready  and  willing, 

Than  to  snap  the  delicate,  minute  threads 

Of  our  curious  lives  asunder, 

And  then  blame  Heaven  for  the  tangled  ends. 

And  sit  and  grieve  and  wonder. 


You  may  know  mock  modesty  as  you  do  mock  turtle, 
from  its  being  the  product  of  a  calf's  head. 


November  9. 


Wh\',  O  man  !  do  you  vituperate  the  world  ?  The  world 
is  most  beautiful,  framed  by  the  best  and  most  perfect  rea- 
son ;  though  to  you  indeed  it  may  be  unclean  and  evil, 
because  you  are  unclean  and  evil  in  a  good  world. 

A  far  si  I  ins  Ficimis. 


"W ,  do  you  know  why  you  are  like  a  donkey?"  — 

"Like  a  donkey?"  echoed  W ,  opening  his  eyes  wide: 

"  No,  I  don't."  —  "  Do  you  give  it  up  ?  "  —  "  I  do."  —  "  Be- 
cause your  better  half  is  stubbornness  herself."  —  "  That's  not 
bad.     Ha,  ha  !     I'll  give  that  to  my  wife  when  I  get  home." 

"  Mrs.  W ,"  he  asked,  as  he  sat  down  to  supper,  "  do 

you  know  why  I  am  like  a  donkey?"  He  waited  a  mo- 
ment, expecting  his  wife  to  give  it  up.  But  she  didn't. 
She  looked  at  him  somewhat  commiseratingly,  as  she  an- 
swered, "  I  suppose  because  you  were  born  so." 


November  lO. 


I'm  all  hunk  on  savin'  nickels ; 
But  a  little  taste  o'  fun 
Now  and  then  don't  hurt  a  feller, 
Helps  to  make  the  old  thing  run  ; 
Makes  the  days  more  flush  o'  sunshine ; 
Makes  yer  work  go  off  more  gay : 
Ef  you're  goin'  to  grind  an  organ, 
Have  a  monkey,  —  that's  my  way. 

D.  L.  Proudfit. 


I  AM  not  earth-born,  though  I  here  delay. 

Hope's  child,  I  summon  infiniter  powers, 
And  laugh  to  see  the  mild  and  sunny  day 

Smile  on  the  shrunk  and  th-in  autumnal  hours  : 
I  laugh,  for  hope  hath  happy  place  with  me ; 
If  my  bark  sinks,  'tis  to  another  sea. 

William  Ellery  Channing. 


November  U. 


What  if  a  river  should  say  to  a  rill, 

"  If  you  weren't  too  lazy,  you'd  turn  a  mill : 

Study  my  method,  and  try  to  be 

A  rushing,  roaring  river  like  me  !  " 

What  if  a  goose  should  teach  a  wren. 
Or  an  eagle  try  to  follow  a  hen  ! 
What  if  the  monkeys  should  all  agree 
That  there  ought  to  be  uniformity  ! 

What  if  a  man  should  say  to  another, 

"  Differ  with  me,  and  you're  not  my  brother : 

I  have  the  truth  as  oracles  tell ; 

Go  with  me,  or  —  you'll  go  to  hell ! " 

M.  F.  Btitis. 


November  12. 


CHRYSANTHEMUMS. 

Ye  come,  the  heart  to  gladden  with  your  smile, — 
A  gleam  of  brightness  ere  the  winter  near,  — 
Chasing  our  sadness  with  your  magic  will. 
Happy  their  lot,  like  you,  who  soothe  and  cheer, 
And  life's  November  brighten  and  beguile. 


The  year  grows  old  :  summer's  wld  crown  of  roses 
Has  fallen  and  faded  in  the  woodland  ways. 

On  all  the  earth  a  tranquil  light  reposes 
Through  the  still,  dreamy  days. 

And  from  the  garden-lawn  comes,  soft  and  clear, 
The  robin's  warble  from  the  leafless  spray, — 

The  low,  sweet  Angelus  of  the  dying  year, 
Passing  in  light  away. 


November  13. 


TAKE     HEART. 

All  day  the  stormy  wind  has  blown 
From  off  the  dark  and  rainy  sea ; 

No  bird  has  past  the  window  flown ; 

The  only  song  has  been  the  moan 
The  wind  made  in  the  willow-tree. 

This  is  the  Summer's  burial  time  : 

She  died  when  dropped  the  earliest  leaves; 
And  cold  upon  her  rosy  prime 
Fell  down  the  Autumn's  frosty  rime, — 

Yet  I  am  not  as  one  that  grieves. 

R.  T.  F. 


Labor,  the  symbc^  of  man's  punishment ; 
Labor,  the  secret  of  man's  happiness. 

ya/nes  Montgomery. 


November  14. 


'Tis  ever  wrong  to  say  a  good  man  dies. 

Callimachus. 


And,  as  she  looked  around,  she  saw  how  Death,  the  con- 
soler, 

Laying  his  hand  upon  many  a  heart,  had   healed  it  for- 
ever. 

Longfellow. 


O  THOU  by  winds  of  grief  o'erblown, 
Beside  some  golden  summer's  bier. 
Take  heart !     Thy  birds  are  only  flown, 
Thy  blossoms  sleeping,  tearful  sown. 
To  greet  thee  in  the  immortal  year  ! 

Edna  Dean  Proctor. 


November  15. 


An  ounce  of  cheerfulness  is  worth  a  pound  of  sadness, 
to  serve  God  with. 


Fuller. 


The  habit  of  looking  on  the  best  side  of  every  event  is 

worth  more  than  a  thousand  pounds  a  year, 

Johnson. 


He  who  is  false  to  present  duty  breaks  a  thread  in  the 

loom,  and  will  find  the  flaw  when  he  may  have  forgotten 

its  cause. 

H.  W.  Beecher. 


'Tis  sweet,  as  year  by  year  we  lose 
Friends  out  of  sight,  in  faith  to  muse 
How  grows  in  Paradise  our  store. 


Keble. 


November   16. 


Those  who  are  afflicted,  and  do  not  afflict  in  return, 
who  suffer  every  thing  for  the  love  of  God,  and  bear  their 
burdens  with  a  cheerful  heart,  shall  be,  according  to  the 
promise,  invincible  as  the  rising  sun  in  his  might. 

The  Tabmid. 


Death's  but  a  path  that  must  be  trod. 
If  man  would  ever  pass  to  God. 

Panicll. 


The  tree 
Sucks  kindlier  nurture  from  a  soil  enriched 
By  its  own  fallen  leaves ;  and  man  is  made. 
In  heart  and  spirit,  from  deciduous  hopes. 
And  things  that  seem  to  perish, 

Hciiiy  Taylor. 


November  17. 


Hannah  INIore  says,  "  In  my  judgment,  one  of  the  best 
proofs  that  sorrow  has  had  any  right  effect  upon  the  mind, 
is,  that  it  has  not  incapacitated  you  from  business, — your 
business  being  your  duty." 


AGAINST   IMPATIENCE. 

Be  not  impatient,  O  Soul ! 

Thou  movest  on  to  thy  goal. 

Be  not  full  of  care  : 

In  the  universe  thou  hast  thy  share. 

Be  not  afraid,  but  trust : 

Thou  wilt  suffer  nothing  unjust. 

Anon. 


In  tracing  the  shade,  I  shall  find  out  the  sun. 

Owen  Meredith. 


November   18. 


HIDDEN  IN    LIGHT. 

When  first  the  sun  dispels  the  cloudy  night, 
The  glad  hills  catch  the  radiance  from  afar, 
And  smile  for  joy.     We  say,  "  How  fair  they  are. 
Tree,  rock,  and  heather-bloom  so  clear  and  bright !  " 
But  when  the  sun  draws  near  in  westering  night, 
Infolding  all  in  one  transcendent  blaze 
Of  sunset  glow,  we  trace  them  not,  but  gaze 
And  wonder  at  the  glorious,  holy  light. 
Come  nearer.  Sun  of  righteousness  !  that  we, 
Whose  swift,  short  hours  of  day  so  swiftly  run. 
So  overflowed  with  love  and  light  may  be, 
Lost  in  the  glory  of  the  nearing  sun. 
That  not  our  light,  but  thine,  may  brightly  shine, 
New  praise  to  thee  through  our  poor  lives  be  won  ! 

Frances  Ruiley  Havergal. 


November  19. 


Boughs  are  daily  rifled 
By  the  gusty  thieves, 

And  the  book  of  nature 
Getteth  short  of  leaves. 

Round  the  tops  of  houses, 
Swallows,  as  they  flit, 

Give,  like  yearly  tenants, 
Notices  to  quit. 

So  November  endeth, 

Cold,  and  most  perverse ; 

But  the  month  that  follows, 
Sure  will  pinch  us  worse. 


T.  Hood. 


Be  lighted  from  within  by  unseen  Guest, 

Send  out  warm  rays  of  love  to  all  distrest, 

And  lure  them,  by  your  shining,  into  rest. 

K.  H.  J. 


November  20. 


Forenoon  and  afternoon  and  night ; 
Forenoon  and  afternoon  and  night ; 
Forenoon  and  afternoon,  —  the  empty  rhyme 
Repeats  itself.     No  more  ?     Yes :  this  is  hfe. 
Make  this  forenoon  subhme,  this  afternoon 
A  psahn,  this  night  a  prayer,  and  hfe 
Is  conquered,  and  thy  crown  is  won. 


So  brief  the  time  to  smile, 
Why  darken  we  the  air 

With  frowns  and  tears,  the  while 
We  nurse  despair? 

Stand  in  the  sunshine  sweet, 
And  treasure  every  ray. 

Nor  seek  with  stubborn  feet 
The  darksome  way. 


Celia   Thaxter. 


November  21. 


A    THANKSGIVING. 

Lord,  for  the  erring  thought 
Not  into  evil  wrouglit ; 
Lord,  for  the  wicked  will 
Betrayed  and  baffled  still ; 
For  the  heart  from  itself  kept, — 
Our  thanksgiving  accept. 

For  ignorant  hopes  that  were 
Broken  to  our  blind  prayer; 
For  pain,  death,  sorrow,  sent 
Unto  our  chastisement ; 
For  all  loss  of  seeming  good,  — 
Quicken  our  gratitude. 

Williaiii  Dean  Howells. 


November  22. 


More  welcome  than  voluptuous  gales 
This  keen,  crisp  air  as  conscience  clear  : 

November  breathes  no  flattering  tales,  — 
The  plain  truth-teller  of  the  year. 

Who  wins  her  heart,  and  he  alone. 
Knows  she  has  sweetness  all  her  own. 

This  is  the  month  of  sunrise  skies, 
Intense  with  molten  mist  and  flame. 

Out  of  the  purple  deeps  arise 

Colors  no  painter  yet  could  name. 

Gold  lilies  and  the  cardinal  flower 
Were  pale  against  this  gorgeous  hour. 

Lucy  Larcom. 


The  sun,  —  God's  crest  upon  his  azure  shield,  the  heavens. 

Bailey. 


November  23. 


Yet  will  I  try  to  keep  the  heart  with  diligence,  nor  ever 
fear  that  the  sun  is  gone  out  because  I  shiver  in  the  cold 
and  dark. 

Marm7-et  Fuller. 


Upwards  steals  the  life  of  man, 
As  the  sunshine  from  the  wall, 
From  the  wall  into  the  sky, 
From  the  roof  along  the  spire. 
Ah  !  the  souls  of  those  that  die, 
Are  but  sunbeams  lifted  higher. 

LongfcUmn. 


Then   shall   the  righteous  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the 
kingdom  of  their  Father. 

I\[attlicii)  xiii.  43. 


November   24. 


It  is  a  little  thing  to  speak  a  phrase 

Of  common  comfort,  which  by  daily  use 

Has  almost  lost  its  sense ;  yet  on  the  ear 

Of  him  who  thought  to  die  unmoumed,  'twill  fall 

Like  choicest  music. 

Tal/ourd. 


It  was  only  a  glad  "good-morning," 
As  she  passed  along  the  way; 

But  it  spread  the  morning's  glory 
Over  the  livelong  day. 


Carlotia  Perry. 


On    this    earth    there  are   many   roads    to   heaven,  and 

each    traveller   supposes   his    own    to    be    the    best.     But 

they   must   all   unite    in    one    road   at    last.      It    is    only 

Omniscience   can   decide. 

Eliza  Leslie. 


November  25. 


Old,  —  we  are  growing  old ; 
Going  on  through  a  beautiful  road, 
Finding  earth  a  more  blessed  abode. 
Nobler  work  by  our  hands  to  be  wrought, 
Freer  paths  for  our  hope  and  our  thought. 

Because  of  the  beauty  the  years  unfold, 

We  are  cheerfully  growing  old. 

Old,  —  we  are  growing  old. 
Going  up  where  the  sunshine  is  clear, 
Watching  grander  horizons  appear 
Out  of  clouds  that  enveloped  our  youth, 
Standing  firm  on  tlie  mountains  of  truth. 

Because  of  the  glory  the  years  unfold, 

We  are  joyfully  growing  old. 

Lucy  Larcom. 


November  26. 


SONG. 

O  SPIRIT  of  the  summer-time  i 

Bring  back  the  roses  to  the  dells, 
The  swallow  from  her  distant  clime, 

The  honey-bee  from  drowsy  cells. 
Bring  back  the  friendship  of  the  sun ; 

The  gilded  evenings  calm  and  late, 
When  merry  children  homeward  run. 

And  peeping  stars  bid  lovers  wait. 
Bring  back  the  singing  and  the  scent 

Of  meadow-lands  at  dewy  prime ; 
Oh,  bring  again  my  heart's  content, 

The  spirit  of  the  summer-time  ! 

IV.  A. 


Heaven  never  helps  the  men  who  will  not  act. 

Sophocles 


November  27. 


Suns  may  fall 

Or  flash,  dear  heart !     I  speak,  and  call 

Your  soul  unto  its  fate. 

Tread  bravely  down  life's  evening  slope, 

Before  the  night  comes,  —  do  not  grope. 

Forever  shines  some  small,  sweet  hope ; 

And  God  is  not  too  late. 

E.  S.  Phelps. 


The  most  manifest  sign  of  wisdom  is  continued  cheer- 
fulness. 

Montaisne. 


If   there  is  a  virtue  in  the  world  at  which  we  should 

always  aim,  it  is  cheerfulness. 

Bnlwer  Lytton. 


November  28. 


HOPE. 

Oh  !  hope's  not  a  simple,  a  meaningless  name, 

Within  the  fool's  brains  generated  : 
The  heart  ever  burns  in  loud  "notes  to  proclaim 

For  purposes  grand  we're  created. 
Whenever  the  innermost  voice  aught  repeats, 
The  soul,  in  its  longings,  that  voice  never  cheats. 

ScJiille7\ 


Why  shouldst  thou  feel  with  sorrow 
About  to-morrow, 

My  heart? 
One  watches  all  with  care  most  true  : 
Doubt  not  that  He  will  give  thee,  too, 

Thy  part. 


Paul  Fleming. 


November  29. 


He  comes,  —  he  comes,  —  the  Frost  Spirit  comes  !  let  us 

meet  him  as  we  may, 
And   turn  with   the   light  of  the  parlor-fire  his  evil  power 

away ; 
And   gather   closer   the    circle   round,    when   that   firelight 

dances  high, 
And    laugh    at    the    shriek    of  the    bafiled    Fiend    as    his 

sounding  wing  goes  by  ! 

Whittier. 


Soul,  be  but  inly  bright, 
All  outer  things  must  smile,  must  catch 
The  strong,  transcendent  light. 

T.  H.  Gill. 


"  The  liglit  shall  shine  upon  thy  ways." 


November  30. 


THE    LAST    DAY     OF     AUTUMN. 

Like  a  spirit  glorified, 
The  angel  of  the  year  departs,  lays  down 
His  robes  once  green  in  spring. 
Or  bright  with  summer's  blue ; 

And  having  done  his  mission  on  the  earth. 
Filling  ten  thousand  vales  with  golden  corn, 
Orchards  with  rosy  fruit. 
And  scattering  flowers  around. 

He  lingers  for  a  moment  in  the  west. 

With  the  declining  sun  sheds  over  all 

A  pleasant  farewell  smile. 

And  so  returns  to  God. 

From  the  German. 


December  1. 


With  his  ice  and  snow  and  rime, 

Let  bleak  Winter  sternly  come  : 

There  is  not  a  sunnier  clime 

Than  the  love-lit  winter  home. 

A  lark  A.   Watts. 


There  is  a  charm  in  the  sudden  and  total  disappear- 
ance even  of  the  grassy  green.  All  "  the  old  familiar 
faces  "  of  Nature  are  for  a  while  out  of  sight  and  out  of 
mind.  That  white  silence  shed  by  heaven  over  earth 
carries  with  it,  far  and  wide,  the  pure  peace  of  another 
region,  —  almost  another  life.  We  are  glad  to  feel  our 
whole  being  complexioned  by  the  passionless  repose. 


Though  Winter  howleth  at  the  gate. 

In  our  hearts  'tis  summer  still. 

Epes  Sargent. 


December  2. 


You  ask  to  conquer  in  the  strife  : 

Take,  then,  your  chosen  part. 
I'd  rather  fold  within  my  Hfe 

The  sunshine  of  the  heart. 

I'd  rather  know  how  thus  to  win 

A  bahii  from  every  pain ; 
Thus,  even  from  the  shade  of  sin, 

Some  purer  strength  to  gain ; 
To  hve  in  hope,  to  trust  in  right. 

To  smile  when  shadows  start. 
To  walk  through  darkness  as  through  light. 

With  sunshine  in  the  heart. 

Mary  E.  Blake. 


Men   should    not    think    too   much   of  themselves,  and 
jet  a  man  should  always  be  careful  not  to  forget  himself. 


December  3. 


I  HAVE  always  noticed,  that,  if  you  want  people  to  laugh, 
you  had  better  make  a  bad  old  joke  than  a  good  new  one  : 
for,  in  the  first  place,  every  one  knows  the  point  of  the 
former ;  and,  in  the  second,  people  laugh  out  of  pure  com- 
passion for  the  perpetrator,  because  by  experience  they  know 
how  painful  is  the  position  of  one,  who,  after  having  delivered 
himself  of  a  Joe  Miller,  is  disappointed  of  the   expected 

titter. 

'■'■Angelina  GushingtonP 


This  man   might   have   been  a  Counsellor   of  State   till 

he  spoke. 

Ben  yonson. 


Wh.\t   would   have   become   of  you    if  it   had   pleased 
Providence  to  make  the  weather  unchangeable, 

Sydney  Smith. 


December  4. 


WINTER. 

Sad  soul,  dear  heart,  and  why  repine? 

The  melancholy  tale  is  plain  : 
The  leaves  of  spring,  the  summer  flowers, 

Have  bloomed  and  died  again. 

Sad  soul,  dear  heart,  no  more  repine. 

The  tale  is  beautiful  and  plain  : 
Surely  as  winter  taketh  all, 

The  spring  shall  bring  again. 

T.  B.  Read. 


A  FRESH  mind  keeps  the  body  fresh.  Take  in  the 
ideas  of  the  day,  drain  off  those  of  yesterday.  As  to  the 
morrow,  time  enough  to  consider  it  when  it  becomes 
to-day. 

Bidwer  Lytton. 


December  5. 


"What   she  could" — not  what  she    could    not    do  — 

not    what    she    thought    might   be    done  —  not   what   she 

would    like    to    do  —  not  what   she   would   do  if  she   had 

more    time  —  not  what   somebody  else   thought  she  ought 

to  do  —  but  "what  she  could." 

IV.  A.  Shipf/ian. 


Ah  !  more  than  martyr's  aureole, 
And  more  than  hero's  heart  of  fire, 

We  need  the  humble  strength  of  soul 
Which  daily  toils  and  ills  require. 

Sweet  Patience  !  grant  us,  if  you  may, 

An  added  grace  for  every  day. 

Elisabeth  Akers  Allen. 


We  ask  advice,  but  we  mean  approbation. 

CoLTON :  Lacon. 


December  6. 


THE   GOLDEN    CALENDAR. 

Count  not  the  years  that  hoarding  Time  has  told, 
Save  by  the  starry  memories  in  their  train  ; 
Not  by  the  vacant  moons  that  wax  and  wane, 
Not  all  the  seasons'  changing  robes  infold  : 
Look  on  the  life  whose  record  is  unrolled  ! 

Bid  thought,  word,  action,  breathe,  burn,  strive  again. 

O.  IF.  Holmes. 


You  find  yourself  refreshed  by  the  presence  of  cheer- 
ful people.  Why  not  make  that  earnest  effort  to  confer 
that  pleasure  on  others?  You  will  find  half  the  battle  is 
gained  if  you  never  allow  yourself  to  say  any  thing  gloomy. 

Mrs.  L.  M.  Child. 


You   will   find   poetry  nowhere    unless   you    bring   some 

with  you. 

yoiibert. 


December  7. 


Dear  old  songs  forever  new; 

Some  true  love,  and  laughter  too ; 
Pleasant  wit,  and  harmless  fun, 
And  a  dance  when  day  is  done ; 

Music,  friends  so  true  and  tried, 

Whispered  love  by  home  fireside ; 
Mirth  at  all  times, — all  together 
Make  sweet  May  of  winter  weather. 

Alfred  Domett. 


In  winter  a  fire  is  better  than  a  muscat  rose. 

Persian. 


The  fire  is  winter's  fruit. 

Arabian. 


December  8. 


Employment  iz  the  grate  boon  ov  life :  a  man  with 
nothing  to  do  iz  not  haff  so  interesting  a  sight  as  a 
ripening  turnip. 

Hunting  for  happiness  iz  like  hunting  for  hens'  eggs 
under  the  barn  :  haff  the  time  they  are  addled  after  yu 
hav  found  them. 

yosh  Billings. 


Have  a  purpose.     A  worthy  purpose  will  speedily  free  the 

mind  and  spirit  of  the  mumps  and  measles,  dyspepsia  and 

languor. 

P.  S.  Boyd. 


It   has   been  said,  and  very  truly,  "Reputation  is  what 
men  think  of  us ;  character  is  what  God  knows  of  us." 


December  9. 


If  sin  be  in  tlie  heart, 
The  fairest  sky  is  foul,  and  sad  the  summer  weather. 
The  eye  no  longer  sees  the  lambs  at  play  together, 
The  dull  ear  cannot  hear  the  birds  that  sing  so  sweetly, 
And  all  the  joy  of  God's  good  earth  is  gone  completely. 

If  sin  be  in  the  heart. 

If  peace  be  in  the  heart, 
The  wildest  winter  storm  is  full  of  solemn  beauty. 
The  midnight  lightning-flash  but  shows  the  path  of  duty, 
Each  living  creature  tells  some  new  and  joyous  story. 
The  very  trees  and  stones  all  catch  a  ray  of  glory, 

If  peace  be  in  the  heart. 

Charles  Fraticis  Rkhanhon. 


Conceit  may  puff  a  man  up,  but  never  prop  him  up. 

Riiskiii. 


December  lO. 


It  is  a  great  and  a  noble  thing  to  cover  the  blemishes 

and  to  excuse  the  failings  of  a  friend ;  to  draw  a  curtain 

before   his   stains,  and  to  display  his  perfections ;  to  bury 

his    weaknesses    in    silence,    but    to   proclaim    his    vhtues 

upon  the  housetop. 

South. 


This  is  the  law  of  benefits  between  men :  the  one 
ought  to  forget  at  once  what  he  has  given,  and  the  other 
ought  never  to  forget  what  he  has  received. 

Seneca. 


"Some  people,"  says  Alphonse  Karr,  "are  always  find- 
ing fault  with  Nature  for  putting  thorns  on  roses :  I 
always  thank  her  for  having  put  roses  on  thorns." 


December  11. 


So  each  shall  mourn,  in  life's  advance, 

Dear  hopes,  dear  friends,  untimely  killed, - 
Shall  grieve  for  many  a  forfeit  chance. 

And  longing  passion  unfulfilled. 
Amen,  whatever  fate  be  sent. 

Pray  God  the  heart  may  kindly  glow, 
Although  the  head  with  cares  be  bent, 

And  whitened  with  the  winter  snow. 

Thackeray. 


A  CONTENTED  Spirit  is  the  sweetness  of  existence. 

Dickens, 


He  is  richly  endowed  who  is  cheaply  diverted. 

Italian  Proverb. 


December   12. 


The  well-informed  philosopher 
Rejoices  with  a  wholesome  fear, 

And  hopes  in  spite  of  pain  : 
If  Winter  bellow  from  the  north, 
Soon  the  sweet  Spring  comes  dancing  forth, 

And  Nature  laughs  again. 


If  hinderances  obstruct  thy  way. 

Thy  magnanimity  display, 

And  let  thy  strength  be  seen ; 

But,  oh  !  if  fortune  fill  thy  sail 

With  more  than  a  propitious  gale. 

Take  half  thy  canvas  in. 

Cowper. 

Hope  rules  a  land  forever  green. 

Wordsworth. 

»• 

December  13. 


No  wonder  that  old  age  to-day  draws  his  chair  from 
the  fireside  to  the  threshold,  as  if  ready  to  go,  wondering 
why  improvement  and  refinement  should  progress  so 
rapidly  as  to  deprive  the  world  of  its  sweetest  and  purest 
pleasures.  Yes :  the  philosopher's  stone  is  buried  in  the 
ashes  of  our  fathers'  firesides ;  and  yet  we  endure  the 
heated  breath  of  Stygian  furnaces  and  blank  -  looking 
stoves,  that  have  taken  the  place  of  genial  hearthstones. 
"  Is  the  world,"  says  Hawthorne,  "  so  very  bright  that  we 
can  afford  to  choke  up  such  a  domestic  fountain  of 
gladsomeness,  and  sit  down  by  its  darkened  source,  with- 
out being  conscious  of  a  gloom?" 


We   must   be    as    courteous   to  a  man    as  we   are    to  a 

picture,  which  we   are  willing   to   give    the    advantage   of 

a  good  light. 

Emerson. 


December  14. 


All  God's  angels  come  to  us  disguised. 
Sorrow  and  sickness,  poverty  and  death, 
One  after  other  Uft  their  frowning  masks ; 
And  we  behold  the  seraph's  face  beneath, 
All  radiant  with  the  glory  and  the  calm, 
Of  having  looked  upon  the  front  of  God. 

Lowell. 


Stars  lying  in  God's  hand. 

We  know  ye  were  not  planned 

Merely  to  light  men  on  their  midnight  way. 

Shine  on,  ye  fiery  stars  ! 

It  may  be  through  your  bars 

We  shall  pass  upwards  to  eternal  day. 

Hamilton  Aide. 


December  15. 


Oh  !  what  concerns  it  him,  whose  way 
Lies  upward  to  the  immortal  dead, 

That  a  few  hairs  are  turning  gray, 
Or  one  more  year  of  life  has  fled? 

Swift  years  !  but  teach  me  how  to  bear, 
To  feel  and  act  with  strength  and  skill, 

To  reason  wisely,  nobly  dare, 

And  speed  your  courses  as  ye  will. 

Andrews  Norton. 


Oh  !  dear  old  year,  I  wronged  a  Father's  kindness ; 

I  would  not  trust  him  with  my  load  of  care ; 
I  stumbled  on  in  weariness  and  blindness ; 

And,  lo  !  he  blessed  me  with  an  answered  prayer. 

Sarah  Doudney. 


December  16. 


Find  us  a  better  answer  to  the  questionings  of  our 
spirits  than  Christ  has  furnished !  Sliow  us  a  better 
ideal  of  manhood  than  he  has  given  !  Bring  us  a  better 
testimony  to  the  hfe  beyond  the  grave  than  he  has 
borne  !  Ah  !  for  four  thousand  years  the  world  tried  in 
vain  to  return  to  God ;  and,  now  that  he  has  come  him- 
self to  be  the  way,  we  will  not  give  him  up  for  any 
negation. 


William  M.   Taylor. 


I  WOULD  rather  dwell  in  the  dim  fog  of  superstition, 
than  in  air  rarefied  to  nothing  by  the  air-pump  of  un- 
belief;  in   which   the   panting   breast   expires,   vainly   and 

convulsively  gasping  for  breath. 

Richter. 


The  noblest  mind  the  best  contentment  has. 

Spenser. 


December  17. 


In  December  ring 

Every  day  the  chimes; 
Loud  the  gleemen  sing 

In  the  streets  their  merry  rhymes. 
Let  us  sing  by  the  fire 
Ever  higher, 
Sing  them  till  the  night  expire. 

Longfellow. 


"Always  pay  as  you  go,"  said  an  old  man  to  his 
nephew.  "  But,  uncle,  suppose  I  have  nothing  to  pay 
with?"  — "Then,  don't  go." 


Men  will  wrangle   for  religion,  write    for  it,  fight   for  it, 

die  for  it ;  any  thing  but  —  live  for  it. 

Colton. 


December  18. 


THE   SUN-DIAL. 

Only  the  sunny  hours 

Are  numbered  here,  — 
No  winter-time  that  lowers, 

No  twihght  drear; 
But  from  a  golden  sky, 

When  sunbeams  fall, 
Though  the  bright  moments  fly, 

They're  counted  all. 

No  Past  the  glad  heart  cowers. 

No  memories  dark : 
Only  the  sunny  hours, 

The  dial  mark. 

E.  C.  Stediiian. 


Whatsoever  is  brought  upon  thee,  take  cheerfully. 


December  19. 


WINTER. 

A  WRINKLED,  crabbed  man  they  picture  thee, 

Old  Winter,  with  a  rugged  beard  as  gray 

As  the  long  moss  upon  the  apple-tree ; 

Blue-lipt,  an  ice-drop  at  thy  sharp  blue  nose, 

Close  muffled  up,  and  on  thy  dreary  way 

Plodding  alone  through  sleet  and  drifting  snows. 

They  should  have  drawn  thee  by  the  high-heapt  hearth, 

Old  Winter,  seated  in  thy  great  armed  chair, 

Watching  the  children  at  their  Christmas  mirth, 

Or  circled  by  them  as  thy  lips  declare 

Some  merry  jest,  or  tale  of  murder  dire. 

Or  troubled  spirit  that  disturbs  the  night, 

Pausing  at  times  to  rouse  the  mouldering  fire, 

Or  taste  the  old  October  brown  and  bright. 

Southcy. 


December  20. 


If  one  should  give  me  a  dish  of  sand,  and  tell  me  there 
were  particles  of  iron  in  it,  I  might  look  with  my  eyes  for 
them,  and  search  for  them  with  my  clumsy  fingers,  and  be 
unable  to  find  them  ;  but  let  me  take  a  magnet  and  sweep 
it,  and  how  it  would  draw  to  itself  the  most  invisible  parti- 
cles by  the  power  of  attraction  !  The  unthankful  heart,  like 
my  finger  in  the  sand,  discovers  no  mercies ;  but  let  the 
thankful  heart  sweep  through  the  day,  and,  as  the  magnet 
finds  the  iron,  so  it  will  find  in  every  hour  some  heavenly 
blessings :  only,  the  iron  in  God's  sand  is  gold. 

O.   JV.  Holmes. 


A   MAN   may   be   thought    clever  while    he    is    seeking 

for  wisdom ;  but,  if  he  imagines  he  has  found  it,  he  is  a 

fool. 

Persian. 


December  21. 


Wild  was  the  day :  the  wintry  sea 

Moaned  sadly  on  New-England's  strand, 

When  first  the  thoughtful  and  the  free, 
Our  fathers,  trod  the  desert  land. 

Bryant. 


The  Pilgrim  spirit  has  not  fled : 

It  walks  in  noon's  broad  light ; 
And  it  watches  the  bed  of  the  glorious  dead, 

With  their  holy  stars  by  night ; 
It  watches  the  bed  of  the  bra\e  who  have  bled, 

And  shall  guard  this  ice-bound  shore, 
Till  the  waves  of  the  bay,  where  the  Mayflower  lay, 

Shall  foam  and  freeze  no  more. 

Joint  Picpront, 


December  22. 


FOREFATHER'S   DAY. 

Find  me  the  men  on  earth  who  care 

Enough  for  faith  or  creed  to-day 
To  seek  a  barren  wilderness 

For  simple  liberty  to  pray. 

Despise  their  narrow  creed  who  will ! 

Pity  their  poverty,  who  dare. 
Their  lives  knew  joys,  their  lives  wore  crowns, 

We  do  not  know,  we  cannot  wear. 

And  if  so  be  that  it  is  saved. 

Our  poor  Republic,  stained  and  bruised, 
'Twill  be  because  we  lay  again 

Their  corner-stones  which  we  refused. 

Helen  Hutit  yackson. 


December  23. 


DECEMBER, 

Come,  tonic  blasts  ! 
Arouse  my  courage,  stir  my  tiiought, 
Give  nerve  and  spring,  that  as  I  ought 
I  give  my  strength  to  what  is  wrought, 

While  duty  lasts. 

Glow,  arctic  light ! 
And  let  my  heart  with  burnished  steel, 
That  bright  magnetic  flame  reveal 
Which  kindles  purpose,  faith,  and  zeal 

For  truth  and  right. 

Shine,  winter  skies  ! 
That  when  each  brave  day's  work  is  done, 
I  wait  in  peace,  from  sun  to  sun. 
To  meet  unshamed,  through  victory  won. 

Your  starry  eyes. 

Louisa  P.  Hopkins. 


December  24. 


The  things  we  do  at  Christmas  are  touched  with  a 
certain  grain  of  extravagance,  as  beautiful  in  some  of  its 
aspects  as  the  extravagance  of  Nature  in  June. 

Still,  I  think  it  is  not  hard  to  see  how  we  may  spare, 
even  at  the  Christmas-tide,  and  yet  do  more  and  better 
than  if  we  spend. 

If  a  man  spends  the  money  he  ought  to  save  to  pay 
his  debts,  when  he  knows  very  well  he  can  only  pay  his 
debts  by  saving,  he  may  give  what  he  buys  right  and 
lef*  tvith  an  open  hand,  and  it  will  be  to  his  own  shame. 

Robert  Collyer. 


Presents  endear  absents. 

Charles  Lamb. 


Fear  not  the  future,  weep  not  for  the  past. 

Shelley, 


December  25. 


.    MERRY  CHRISTMAS! 

It  is  the  Xmas  time  : 

And  up  and  down,  'tvvixt  heaven  and  earth, 

In  glorious  grief  and  solemn  mirth, 
The  shining  angels  climb ; 

And  unto  every  thing 
That  lives  and  moves,  for  heaven,  on  earth, 

The  shininj^  angels  sing. 

Mrs.  Craik. 


Without  the  door  let  sorrow  lie ; 
And,  if  for  cold  it  hap  to  die, 
We'll  bury't  in  a  Xmas  pie. 
And  evermore  be  merry. 

George  Wither. 


December  26. 


A  Christmas  day,  to  be  perfect,  should  be  clear  and 
cold,  with  holly  branches  in  berry,  a  blazing  fire,  a 
dinner  with  mince-pies,  and  games  and  forfeits  in  the 
evening.  You  cannot  have  it  in  perfection,  if  you  are 
very  fine  and  fashionable.  A  Christmas  evening  should, 
if  possible,  finish  with  music.  It  carries  off  the  excite- 
ment without  abruptness,  and  sheds  a  repose  over  the 
conclusion  of  enjoyment. 

Leigh  Hunt. 


Through  every  web  of  life  the  dark  threads  run. 

Oh  !  why  and  whither?     God  knows  all. 

I  only  know  that  he  is  good. 

And  that  whatever  may  befall, 

Or  here  or  there,  must  be  the  best  that  could. 

Whittier. 


December  27. 


If  a  sunset  were  as  rare  as  a  comet,  the  people  would  all 
be  out  upon  the  hill-tops,  —  astronomers  with  their  telescopes, 
poets  with  their  pens,  artists  with  their  brushes,  —  to  capture 
wliat  they  could  of  it,  and  give  it  immortality.  Or,  if  only 
once  in  a  year  the  eastern  skies  held  sunrise,  we  should  be 
out  of  bed  betimes,  that  morning,  to  watch  the  gold  and 
crimson  pageant  passing  up  the  sky.  But,  because  these 
glories  face  us  every  day,  we  are  color-blind  to  them. 

W.  C.  Gannett. 


Make  the  best  of  every  thing ; 
Tliink  the  best  of  everybody ; 
Hope  the  best  for  yourself: 
Do  as  I  have  done,  —  persevere. 

George  Stephenson. 


December  28. 


The  year  was  old  that  day.  The  patient  year  had 
Hved  through  the  reproaches  and  misuses  of  its  slan- 
derers, and  faithfully  performed  its  work. 

Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter,  it  had  labored  through 
the  destined  round,  and  now  laid  down  its  weary  head 
to  die.  Shut  out  from  hope,  high  impulse,  active 
happiness  itself,  but  messenger  of  many  joys  to  others, 
it  made  appeal,  in  its  decline,  to  have  its  toiling  days 
and  patient  hours  remembered,  and  to  die  *in  peace. 

Dickens. 


Think  that  day  lost  whose  low  descending  sun 
Views  from  thy  hand  no  noble  action  done. 

Bobart. 


The  Year  will  write,  "  Fruits  gleaned,  and  rest  is  near. 
I  am  grown  old :  my  work  is  almost  done." 


December  29. 


Death  is  the  portal  and  portico  of  "  our  Father's 
house."  As  we  stand  under  the  porch,  the  archway  over 
our  head  projects  a  shadow.  We  are  for  a  moment  out 
of  hfe's  sunshine.  But  the  next,  the  door  opens ;  and 
better  than  the  blaze  of  earthly  sun  is  ours.  The  dark- 
ness is  past,  and  the  true  light  shineth  ! 


EVERY-DAY   RELIGION. 

EvERY-DAY  religion  is  the  foundation  of  thoroughness, 
which  is  another  word  for  truthfulness  or  honesty.  Work- 
men that  slight  their  work,  whether  they  make  shirts  for 
a  living,  or  sermons,  build  houses  or  ships,  raise  flocks  or 
raise  families,  will  be  some  day  or  other  found  out.  We 
want  clothes  that  will  not  rip,  vessels  that  will  not  leak, 
and  bridges  that  will  not  break  down.  So  we  want 
characters  that  will  stand  temptation,  and  not  snap 
asunder  under  the  sudden  pressures  of  life. 

New-York  Evangelist. 


December  30. 


Say  not,  the  struggle  naught  availeth, 
The  labor  and  the  wounds  are  vain, 

The  enemy  faints  not,  nor  faileth, 

And  as  things  have  been  they  remain. 

If  hopes  were  dupes,  fears  may  be  liars : 
It  may  be,  in  yon  smoke  concealed. 

Your  comrades  chase  e'en  now  the  fliers, 
And,  but  for  you,  possess  the  field. 

And  not  by  eastern  windows  only. 

When  daylight  comes,  comes  in  the  light : 

In  front  the  sun  climbs  slow,  now  slowly ; 
But  westward,  look  !  the  land  is  bright. 

Arthur  Htigh  C lough. 


Serve  the  Lord  with  gladness. 


December  31. 


FAREWELL   TO   THE   OLD   YEAR. 

Stay  yet,  my  friends,  a  moment  stay, 

Stay,  for  the  good  old  year, 
So  long  companion  of  our  way, 

Shakes  hands,  and  leaves  us  here. 
Even  while  we  sing  he  smiles  his  last, 

And  leaves  our  sphere  behind. 
The  good  old  year  is  with  the  past : 

Oh,  be  the  new  as  kind  ! 


Bryajit. 


I  STAND  to-night  on  the  threshold 

Of  a  strange,  mysterious  door. 
That  silently  opes  from  the  year  just  gone. 

To  the  one  that  lies  before. 

F.  J.  D. 


MOVABLE     FEASTS 


SPECIAL    DAYS. 


iFirst  Suntrag  in  iLent* 

Thou  loving  Maker  of  mankind, 

Before  thy  throne  we  pray  and  weep  : 

Oh,  strengthen  us  with  grace  divine 
Duly  this  sacred  Lent  to  keep  ! 


Sackcloth  is  a  girdle  good  : 

Oh,  bind  it  round  thee  still ! 
Fasting,  it  is  angel's  food ; 

And  Jesus  loved  the  night-air  chill : 
Yet  think  not  prayer  and  fast  were  given 

To  make  one  step  'twixt  earth  and  heaven. 


jFtrst  IBontias  tit  Untt 

A    TRUE     LENT. 

Is  it  to  fast  an  houre, 
Or  rag'd  to  go, 
Or  show 
A  downcast  look,  and  soNvre  ? 

It  is  to  fast  from  strife, 
From  old  debate. 
And  hate, 
To  circumcise  thy  life. 

To  shew  a  heart  grief-rent ; 
To  starve  thy  sin. 
Not  bin  ; 
And  that's  to  keep  thy  Lent. 

Robert  Hcrrick. 


Samour,  when  in  dust  to  thee 
Low  we  bend  the  adoring  knee  ; 
When,  repentant,  to  the  skies 
Scarce  we  lift  our  weeping  eyes,  — 
Oh,  by  all  thy  pain  and  woe 
Suffered  once  for  man  below. 
Bending  from  tliy  throne  on  high, 
Hear  our  solemn  litany  ! 

Sir  Robert  Gnnit. 


Palm  ^untrag* 

"And  a  very  great  multitude  spread  their  garments  in 
the  way ;  others  cut  down  branches  from  the  trees,  and 
strawed  them  in  the  way." 


The  Sunday  garment  ghttering  gay, 

The  Sunday-heart  will  steal  away. 

Then  haste  thee,  ere  the  fond  glance  stray, 

Thy  precious  robes  unfold, 
And  cast  before  thy  Saviour's  feet : 
Him  spare  not  with  thy  best  to  greet, 
Nor  dread  the  dust  of  Sion's  sheet, 
Tis  jewels  all  and  gold. 


He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men." 


Is  it  not  strange,  the  darkest  hour 

That  ever  dawned  on  sinful  earth 
Should  touch  the  heart  with  softer  power 

For  comfort  than  an  angel's  mirth? 
That  to  the  cross  the  mourner's  eye  should  turn 

Sooner  than  where  the  stars  of  Christmas  burn? 

Keble. 


^aturtiau  Ijcforc  lEaster* 

Sing,  children,  sing  j 

The  lilies  white  you  bring 

In  the  joyous  Easter  morning  for  hope  are  blossoming; 

And,  as  the  earth  her  shroud  of  snow  from  off  her  breast 
doth  fling, 

So  may  we  cast  our  fetters  off  in  God's  eternal  spring, 

So   may   we   find   release   at    last    from   sorrow   and   from 
pain, 

So   may   we   find    our   childhood's   calm,    delicious    dawn 
again. 

Sweet   are   your  eyes,  O  little    ones,  that   look  with    smil- 
ing grace. 

Without  a  shade  of  doubt  or  fear,  into  the  Future's  face  ! 

Sing,  sing  in  happy  chorus,  with  joyful  voices  tell 

That  death  is  fife,  and  God  is  good,  and  all  things    shall 
be  well ; 

That  bitter  days  shall  cease 

In  warmth  and  light  and  peace ; 

That  winter  yields  to  spring : 

Sing,  little  children,  sing  ! 

Cdia   T/iaxter. 


35aster  .Suntiag, 

How  did  the  Lord  keep  Easter?     With  his  own. 
Back  to  meet  Mary  where  she  grieved  alone, 
With  face  and  mien  all  tenderly  the  same, 
Unto  the  very  sepulchre  he  came. 

And  I  do  think,  as  he  came  back  to  her, 
The  many  mansions  may  be  all  astir 
With  tender  steps  that  hasten  in  the  way. 
Seeking  their  own  upon  this  Easter  day. 

Parting  the  veil  that  hideth  them  about, 
I  think  they  do  come  softly,  wistful  out 
From'  homes  of  heaven,  that  only  seem  so  far, 
And  walk  in  gardens  where  the  new  tombs  are. 


lEastcr  IHontiau, 

And  perched  the  glittering,  icy  boughs  among, 
One  httle  bird  was  pouring  out  his  song, 
An  Easter  carol  full  of  faith  and  cheer, 
Under  the  leaden  sky  so  sad  and  drear. 

Dear  little  songster,  braver  thou  than  we  ! 
Surely  our  clouded  hearts  are  shamed  by  thee : 
So  easy  'tis  to  sing  when  skies  are  fair. 
And  the  spring  gladness  waketh  in  the  air. 

But  still  to  keep  sweet  music  in  the  heart 
When  wintry  storms  bid  brightest  hopes  depart, 
When  skies  are  dark  and  springtime  waiteth  long, 
This  is  the  true,  the  perfect,  Easter  song. 

G.  //.  D. 


Oh,  the  glorious  Thanksgivings 

Of  the  days  that  are  no  more  ! 
How,  with  each  recurring  season, 

Wakes  their  mem'ry  o'er  and  o'er, 
When  the  hearts  of  men  were  simpler. 

And  the  needs  of  life  were  less, 
And  its  mercies  were  not  reckoned 

By  the  measure  of  excess. 

Heaven  send  the  glad  Thanksgiving 

Of  that  older,  simpler  time ! 
Tarry  with  us,  not  in  fancy, 

Not  in  retrospective  rhyme  ; 
But  in  true  and  living  earnest 

May  the  spirit  of  that  day, 
Artless,  plain,  and  unpretending, 

Once  again  resume  its  sway  ! 

E.  A.  Sviuller. 


Pause,  then,  a  moment,  and  think  what  Whitsunday  was 
the  first  Whitsunday  ! 

And  what  that  first  Whitsunday  was  to  all  the  world, 
one  certain  day  becomes  to  any  man,  —  the  day  when 
the  Holy  Spirit  comes  to  him.  God  enters  into  him,  and 
he  sees  all  things  with  God's  vision.  Truths  which  were 
dead  spring  into  life,  and  are  as  real  to  him  as  they  are 
to  God. 

Oh,  in  this  world  of  shallow  believers,  and  weary,  dreary 
workers,  how  we  need  that  Holy  Spirit ! 

Phillips  Brooks. 


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